CHAPTER I.

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Widow, who weepest sore in the night, and whose
tears are on thy cheeks, because thy young children are
fatherless, and the husband of thy bosom and thy youth
in the dust, dry thy tears. Remember Him, who hath
promised to be the husband of the widow, and take
courage. Orphan, who hast seen thy venerated father
taken from thee by the rude hand of death, and whose
thought is, that in the wide world, there is none to love,
pity, or protect thee, forget not the gracious Being, who
has promised to be a father to the orphan, and remember,
that thy business in life is, not to give up to weak
and enervating despondence, and waste thy strength in
sorrow and tears. Life is neither an anthem nor a
funeral hymn, but an assigned task of discipline and
struggle, and thou hast to gird thyself, and go to thy
duty in the strength of God. I write for the young,
the poor, and the desolate; and the moral and the maxim
which I wish to inculcate is, that we ought never to

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despond, either in our religious or our temporal trials.
To parents I would say, inculcate the spirit, the duties,
and the hopes of religion upon your children in the
morning and the evening, in the house and by the way.
Instil decision and moral courage into their young bosoms.
Teach them incessantly the grand maxim—self-respect.
It will go farther to gain them respect, and
render them deserving of it, than the bequeathed stores
of hoarded coffers. A child, deeply imbued with self-respect,
will never disgrace his parents. The inculcation
of this single point includes, in my view, the best
scope of education. If my powers corresponded to my
wishes, I would impress these thoughts in the following
brief and unpretending story. The reader will see, if
he knows the country, where it is laid, as I do, that it
is true to nature. He will comprehend my motive for
not being more explicit on many points; and he will not
turn away with indifference from the short and simple
annals of the poor, for he will remember, that nine in
ten of our brethren of the human race are of that class.
He will not dare to despise the lowly tenants of the valley,
where the Almighty, in his wisdom, has seen fit to
place the great mass of our race. It has been for ages
the wicked, and unfeeling, and stupid habit of writers,
in selecting their scenery and their examples, to act as
if they supposed that the rich, the titled, and the distinguished,
who dwell in mansions, and fare sumptuously
every day, were the only persons, who could display
noble thinking and acting; that they were the only characters,
whose loves, hopes, fortunes, sufferings, and
deeds had any thing in them, worthy of interest, or
sympathy. Who, in reading about these favorites of
fortune, remembers that they constitute but one in ten
thousand of the species? Even those of humble name
and fortunes have finally caught the debasing and enslaving
prejudice themselves, and exult in the actions,
and shed tears of sympathy over the sorrows of the
titled and the great, which, had they been recorded of

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those in their own walk of life, would have been viewed
either with indifference or disgust. I well know that
the poor can act as nobly, and suffer as bitterly and
keenly as the rich. There is as much strength and
force and truth of affection in cottages as in palaces.
I am a man, and as such, am affected with the noble
actions, the joys and sorrows, the love and death of the
obscure, as much as of the great. If there be any difference,
the deeds, affections, fortunes, and sufferings of
the former have more interest; for they are unprompted
by vanity, unblazoned by fame, unobscured by affectation,
unalloyed by pride and avarice. The actings of
the heart are sincere, simple, single. God alone has
touched the pendulum with his finger, and the vibrations
are invariably true to the purpose of Him who
made the movement. If, therefore, reader, you feel
with me, you will not turn away with indifference from
this, my tale, because you are forewarned, that none of
the personages are rich or distinguished. You will believe,
that a noble heart can swell in a bosom clad in
the meanest habiliments. You will admit the truth as
well as the beauty of the poet's declaration, respecting
the gems of the sea, and the roses that “waste their
sweetness on the desert air;” and you will believe,
that incidents, full of tender and solemn interest, have
occurred in a log cabin in the forests of the Mississippi.

In the year 1816, the Rev. George Mason arrived
towards sunset at a settlement, eight miles south of the
Iron Banks, in what is commonly called the Jackson
Purchase, on the lower Mississippi. The family had
emigrated from New-England, and consisted of this
gentleman, a man of dignified appearance, though indicating
fatigue, exhaustion, and feeble health, and turned
of forty years; his lady, with a complexion which
had originally been as fair as a lily, but now browned
by the suns of a long journey, in the warmer days of
Autumn, and with an expression of sweetness, rendered

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interesting by a strong touch of care and sorrow, and
whose age, from appearance, might be thirty-five; and
five children, four sons and a daughter. George, the
hero of this story, was a fair, white-headed, blue-eyed
boy of fourteen; Eliza, a sweet little girl of twelve,
with a keen black eye, a face of Italian contour, and
slightly olive. Glossy ringlets of black hair curled in
her neck. A shrinking and timid manner evidenced
natural sensibility, the seclusion and retirement, in
which she had been reared, and the rough people,
from whom she had recently shrunk, on a journey of
sixteen hundred miles. Henry, Thomas, and William
were eight, six, and four years old. It was a group, in
which the parents were of uncommon interest, and the
children lovely, beyond what I wish to describe; because
I would avoid expressions, that might seem extravagant.
They had that singular expression of mingled
pride and lowliness, which is apt to be marked
upon the countenance and manner of the children of
ministers, who constitute the connecting link between
the rich and the poor; their education, and the standing
annexed to the profession, placing them on a
level with the rich; and the scantiness and precariousness
of their subsistence placing them distinctly on
the footing of the poor. It was obvious, from their fatigued
and weather-beaten appearance, and their being
apparently much exhausted, that they had travelled a
long way. A slight inspection of their dress, and the
hired wagon that had brought them and their effects
from the banks of the Mississippi, where they had debarked
from a flat boat, manifested that one of their
trials had been want of sufficient money to bring
them comfortably over such a long way, by such a tedious
and expensive route. There was a shyness about
them, too, which marked, however they disguised it externally,
that their hearts revolted from the outlandish
and foreign aspect of the tall planters, dressed in deer-skin
hunting-shirts, with fringed epaulets of leather on

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their shoulders, a knit sash of red, green, and blue about
their waists, buck-skin pantaloons and moccasins, a rifle
on their shoulders, five or six dogs attending each one
of them, and a dozen ragged and listless negroes lounging
behind them. Real dignity, however, is an internal
thing, and belongs only to the mind. A family could
not have been reared, as they had been, where self-respect
had been inculcated every day, and every hour,
both by precept and example, without showing the influence
of their discipline, be their dress and appearance
in other respects, as they might. There was a look of
decency, uprightness, and calm assertion of their standing,
a certain indescribable, but easily felt manner impressed
upon the whole family, which manifested at a
glance, that it was the family of a gentleman. It at once
awed and repressed rude and impertinent curiosity, and
made the vulgar rich, for there were three or four such,
who had come to be spectators of the arrival of this family,
shrink from the manifestation of that unfeeling and
insulting superiority, which such people are apt to evince
in the presence of those, who are poorer than themselves.
Mr. Pindell, the owner of twenty-five negroes,
and Mr. Gorvin, the owner of fifteen, were among the
dozen nearest settlers who had come professedly to welcome
them to their cabin in the woods. There was
much rough but well intended complimenting, and proffer
of aid and courtesy, and desire that they might be
better acquainted; in short, all the kindly meant ceremonial,
customary among such people on such occasions.
After an acquaintance of two years, it would
have been pleasant to Mr. Mason and his family. At
present the dim shades of twilight gathering over the
boundless woods, the savage aspect of these huntsmen
and their negroes, even the joyous evening yell of the
hounds, the unwonted and strange terms of welcome,
the foreign look of every thing about them, all this was
of a character to inspire dismay and homesickness in
the hearts of people, recently transferred from a

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pleasant New-England village. Way-worn, and but slenderly
furnished with the means of simple subsistence,
whether they looked around them upon the new society,
in the midst of which their lot was cast, upon the
dark and sterile woods, whose leaves were falling about
them, or into the roofless and unfloored cabin, where
they were to shelter for the night; the whole scene was
desolate and chilling. God is a shade, a shelter, and a
high tower of defence in such cases. The young children
had wept with weariness, had thrown themselves
on a blanket, and were asleep under the open sky.
The neighbours saw that their newly arrived friends
were weary, and wished to be by themselves. They
had considerately provided plenty of such provisions, as
the settlement afforded; spread bear skins on the sward
in the interior of the cabin, and left a black woman to
cook supper and breakfast for them. In that mild season,
and cloudless weather, there was nothing formidable
to them, in the idea of leaving the family to repose
on bear skins under the open canopy. One after
the other, with the significant Western salutation, “I
wish you well,” left them to themselves. The younger
children were too soundly asleep to be awakened to supper.
The parents and George and Eliza took a hasty
supper, provided for them by the black woman, and
soon forgot their cares and slept as deeply as if they
had been reposing on down, in the most magnificent
dwelling.

Mr. Mason, on report only, and without having seen
it, had purchased, as an asylum and a shelter from the
approaching winter, this unfinished log-house, in the
midst of a clearing of three acres, cut out of the deep
forest, in this settlement, eight miles from the river.
The nearest habitation was distant two miles. Beyond
that, there was a considerable settlement, recently established
in the forests. Some of the planters, as we
have remarked, were comparatively opulent, and had a
considerable number of slaves. The neighbours, of

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whom we have spoken, had visited them, as is customary,
to welcome them to the settlement, and to proffer
their acquaintance and their aid.

A bright morning sun, slanting its beams through the
forests, at this season delightfully rich with all the mellow
colors of autumn, a plentiful breakfast provided for
the family, before they were awake, by the black woman,
and to which she awaked them, the devouring
appetite of the children, refreshed by their sleep, the
air, prospects, and cheerful sounds of the morning, rendered
the scene before them as different from that of
the evening, as can be imagined. Every member of
the family was cheerful, and the sole theme was, how
they should render the habitation comfortable, and lay
in a sufficient quantity of the provisions, which the settlement
furnished, for the approaching winter. We
have remarked, that Mr. Mason was in feeble health.
He suffered, also, from nervousness, and a temperament,
probably resulting from that habit, inclining to dejection
and despondency. But his was a wisely religious
family, which had been taught by constant training,
that despondency, indulged and allowed, under
any circumstances is a sin, implying dishonoring and
distrustful views of God, and particularly so, when it
hinders the desponding from exertions, which they
might otherwise make, to better their condition.

The depression of Mr. Mason was that of feebleness
of health and the physical nature, and not that of the
mind. Immediately after breakfast, and the departure
of the black woman, the father was seen in company
with George, making mortar from the clay, and exerting
himself to fill up the intervals between the logs, in
the language of the country, “daubing” the house, and
in all the common expedients of the country, to render
the habitation a warm and secure shelter from the frosts
and rains of the approaching winter. Though his neighbours
were rough, some of them were kind in their
way, and they came in and aided him. He saw in

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their mode of managing the business, that there is a
dexterity in every business, to be acquired only by
practice, and that they knew infinitely better than he
did how to “daub and chink” a log cabin. In a
couple of days, which fortunately continued fair, the
house had a roof, which would shed the rain, though
the covering was of cypress-splits, secured in their place
by logs, laid at right angles over them, and a chimney,
which did not smoke, although it was made of clefts,
plastered with clay-mortar, in which, as the material
was abundant, there was no lack of thickness of coating.
The intervals between the logs were tightly closed with
chinking, well covered with the same material. A
partition of small and straight timbers, with an opening
cut through one end for a door, divided the area of the
cabin into two apartments, one of which contained one,
and the other two husk mattrasses. The neighbours
assisted him to raise another smaller cabin, in the language
of the country, a “logpen,” covered and daubed
in the same manner, but without a chimney, and here
was another mattrass, in which George and Henry
slept. These mattrasses, thanks to the cheapness of
bleached cottons in our country, though coarsely covered,
had an appearance of coolness and neatness, which
spread a charm round the precincts of the rustic, but
neat cabin. A draft was necessarily made upon the
small sum of money, that remained to the family, and
which was reserved for the most pressing emergencies,
to purchase a supply of winter provisions. These consisted
of the substantial materials of a west countryman's
diet, corn, bacon, and sweet potatoes. Such are
the appointments with which a hundred thousand families
have commenced in the Western country, and with
which they have, probably, been more contented and
happy than their posterity will be when dwelling in
spacious mansions.

When the first white frosts of November rendered an
evening fire necessary; when a bright one was kindled

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on their broad clay hearth; when their “puncheon”
shutters, for glass they had none, had excluded the uncertain
light and the chill air of evening; when the broad
table, made with an adz from white poplar clefts, was
spread before this fire; when the repast of smoking
corn loaf, sweet potatoes, and fried bacon were arranged
on it; when the fragrant tea was added, in remembrance
of New-England, for they still retained a few pounds,
brought all the way from that country; and when the
whole was seasoned by cheerful conversation, and that
appetite, which is felt in such cabins, and by industrious
backwoodsmen in the highest perfection, the guests at
this humble feast had no need to envy those of any
other. A brilliant blaze, kindled with dry wood, enlightened
the whole interior structure of this fresh-looking,
rough-cast, timbered apartment. The faithful dog,
that had followed them all the way from their late home,
and now doubly dear to them, as associated with their
fond remembrances of that country, sat beside the table,
looking earnestly upon its contents, apparently as hungry,
and as happy, as the children, wagging his tail, and
occasionally interpolating a yelp of joy, as an interjection
in the pauses of the gay conversation. The prolonged
and distant howl of the wolves, the ludicrous
and almost terrific noises of a hundred owls, the scream
of other nocturnal animals, the measured creaking of
the crickets and catadeds, and the gathering roar of
autumnal winds along the forest, only sweetened a sense
of present protection to the children, and rendered the
brightness and shelter of the scene within more delightful,
by contrast with the boundless and savage forest
without. Such are the scenes, where narratives of the
incidents of common life have their highest zest and
charm. Such are the scenes, where the confidence
and affection of children towards their parents root deep
and strong in the heart, and have no touch of mercenary
and selfish expectation mixed with them. I have
never passed, and I never expect to pass, happier hours,

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than I have spent, while an inmate of such a cabin. It
has seemed to me, that a woodsman's cabin that has
just risen in the forests, rendered happy by innocence,
competence, contentment, and prayer, concentres affection,
and produces some singular and undescribed
associations of contrast, that render it the chosen and
hallowed abode of that unassuming happiness, which is
the most durable and satisfying, that we can feel here
below. I have delightful remembrances of my long
sojourn in such places; and as they return to my
thoughts. I earnestly invoke the blessing of God upon
the dwellers in cabins.

The children, each one of whom inherited a sprinkling
of romance from their parents, were charmed with
these first essays of the life of a backwoodsman.
Poor things! They had as yet seen but the romance
and the illusion of the picture. Long may they remain
under this pleasant spell, which charms the woods and
this new condition for them. A circumstance contributed
to heighten the charm. The sixth day after their arrival,
a deer strayed so near the cabin, that George shot
it from the door. The same day the father and son, in
exploring the grounds directly about them, in relation
to commencing a clearing, started a bear from the cane
brake. He retreated slowly, and growling from their
path, and made his retreat upon a prodigions sycamore.
A passing neighbour came to the place. Two or three
dogs surrounded the tree, and made the woods ring
with cries, which indicated, to a knowing huntsman, that
fear was mingled with their joy. A few, rifle-shots
brought the savage to the ground. There was something
less wounding to their feelings in the slaughter of
such a ferocious animal, than in that of an inoffensive deer.
Apart from the noble and spirit-stirring sport of bringing
down a large and fat bear, the meat, which is excellent,
and easily preserved, was a matter of no small consideration
to a family like this. Even the skin is an
important item in the arrangement of a backwoods

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cabin. I can scarcely imagine more ample materials
for pleasant evening conversation and amusement, than
were furnished by the hunting of the day. Tender
pieces of venison and bear's-meat smoked on the table.
The fortunes of that day seemed to promise, that there
would be no danger of want of meat, while they possessed
a rifle, powder, and lead. The black eyes of
the charming Eliza glistened with intense interest, as
she contemplated the terrible claws and teeth of the
savage animal, with an involuntary shudder, observing,
that much as she longed to gather the wild flowers,
she should always tremble to go in woods, where
such terrible beasts were common. George exulted in
the spirit of a little Nimrod, as he related the circumstances
of bringing down the bear to his younger
brothers, who had not been permitted to be in at the
death. The misfortune of this pleasant circle was, that
there were generally two or three speakers chattering
at a time. None, but a canine Lavater, would have
comprehended all the visible satisfaction of the dog,
who was evidently listening with all his ears, and probably
regretting the want of speech, that he could not
disclose his thoughts among the rest. Even the head
of this family turned a countenance, brightening from
its common dejection, on Mrs. Mason, who, it would appear,
had been averse to this immigration. “Eliza,”
said he, with an air of quiet triumph in his eye, “are
you sorry now, that we have brought our dear ones
here?”

How often has my heart been glad in view of scenes
like these! How often have I thanked God, that the
world was not made for a favored few! How often
have I felt a religious gladness, in thinking, that calm,
simple, pure, and natural enjoyments were thus accessible
to the tenants of such habitations! An unenvious
spirit of contentment, industry, and prayer rests upon
you, ye dwellers in this lowly habitation. Only know
your happiness, and you need not envy the tenants of

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palaces. Mrs. Mason herself, as she pressed the hand
of her husband, admitted, that the first samples of their
new ways of life were more pleasant, than she had anticipated.
To say the truth, though she never remonstrated
against the plans of her husband, she had entertained
in her heart the most gloomy forebodings, in
reference to a new existence in such a distant and
unknown country.

CHAPTER II.

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It would too long detach me from the thread of my
narrative, if I were to go minutely into the relation of
the causes which brought such a family, as that of Mr.
Mason's, from the condition of a New-England minister's
place and duties, to the forests of the lower Mississippi,
and a society, for which they were evidently so little
assorted. Few of my readers would comprehend the
peculiar trials of a minister in such a place, or would
be able to understand the complication of minute difficulties
and vexations, which, during a ministry of sixteen
years, in a country village, had broken down his health
and spirits, and finally induced him to ask a dismission
from his people, and to move to this distant and unknown
country. His parish comprehended every shade of
opinion in religion and politics. Embittered parties
and eternal disputations were the consequence. In
attempting to keep clear of all, the pastor became embroiled
with all. Both himself and his wife had been
reared delicately. The salary was small, and the family
increasing. He became poor, and obnoxious both to
the religious and political parties; and after sixteen
years of the prime of his life spent among them, admitting,
the while, that he was exemplary, of good feelings,
learned and eloquent, they refused him, in town-meeting,
a request to add something to his salary. In
disgust he asked a dismission, and it was granted.

To account for his thoughts taking this direction, as
a place where to fix himself and family, it would be
necessary to explain something of the peculiar texture
of his mind and his thoughts. In the progress of his
vexations in his parish, he had become, perhaps I ought

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to say, unreasonably disgusted with the condition of a
minister in that country. His health and spirits had
failed, and while his lady earnestly wished him to make
the experiment of trying to settle again, he had become
determined never to be resettled in the ministry.
While she would have preferred his trying any other
expedient for a livelihood than agriculture, a pursuit
for which he was so little fitted, he had been accustomed
for years to allow his thoughts to expatiate in fabricating
the romance of pastoral enjoyments and pursuits.
By accident the romances of Imlay and Chateaubriand,
and other writers equally historical, presenting such
illusive pictures of the southern and western country,
had fallen into his hands. During the long winter
evenings,


“When fast came down the snow,
And keenly o'er the wide heath the bitter blast did blow,”
this romance of freedom from the vexations of a minister's
life, and the miseries of political and religious altercation
in a populous village, and escape from the inclement
climate, to a country where he might find health, freedom,
solitude, rich land, and independence, formed in
his imagination. Once formed there, all his reading
and reasonings, all the opposing arguments, all the remonstrances
of his friends, and each renewed vexation,
embellished his romance, and confirmed his purpose.
His wife, at first, argued gently against the plan; but
she loved her husband, and his often repeated, and eloquently
painted views of his romance, finally presented
it to her mind as a reality.

I need not describe the departure of this family from
their New-England home. As he was leaving them,
the villagers, some of them at least, seemed to relent,
and to understand and feel their loss. Many tears were
shed upon all sides. Mr. Mason himself found it was
a different thing from his imaginings, to break away
from such a place, where he had so long identified his
feelings with the joys and sorrows of the people; where

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he had prayed with so many sick, and followed so many
dead to their long home. His fair and loved wife, pale,
shrinking, and in tears, kissed her mother. The children
kissed their schoolmates. Old people said, “Good
bye, Mr. Mason; pray for us; we shall never see you
again.” The children, their eyes red and swoller with
weeping, were packed along with Mrs. Mason, with the
dilapidated but bulky baggage, into a two-horse wagon.
Young George sat forward, as driver. Amidst suppressed
weeping, and almost inaudible farewells, with his
hat drawn over his eyes, George started his team. The
family dog saw that matters went wrong, and whined
piteously, as he followed the lingering steps of his
master, who walked behind the wagon, to indulge in
the sad luxury of the last look at his church-spire glittering
in the sun-beams of a bright morning in autumn.

I trust there are few readers who cannot fill out the picture
of the feelings, trials, and accidents of such a family,
in their journey to the western hills. They can imagine,
how often the horses gave out, the harness broke, and the
carriage escaped upsetting. They can imagine, how often
the children cried with fatigue and sleepiness at night;
and how fresh, alert, and gay they were, when setting out,
after a full breakfast, on a bright sunny morning; how
often they were brought in contact with rough and unfeeling
people; how often, in their tavern bills, and bills
for repairs, they dealt with harpies, eager to wrest from
them an unjust claim upon their scanty pittance. But
if they met with many painful occurrences on this long
route, there were many pleasant ones too. If the gullied
road, or the rain-washed precipices rendered the
way almost impassable to their wagon, in other places
they found many miles in succession of pleasant travelling.
On the whole, there were many more fair days
than stormy ones. George proved himself, for a boy
of his years, a firm and an admirable driver. While
he was whistling on the front of the wagon, and cheering
his horses, and the children were asleep among the

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baggage, the husband and wife walked many a pleasant
mile, seating themselves occasionally for rest on the
breezy side of a hill or a mountain, and tracing back as
on a map, the dusty road, the river, the villages, spires,
mansions and groves, by which they had passed. Nor
will the feeling and experienced traveller in this emigrating
march, fail to add to the picture the dog, reposing
at their feet, whenever they rested. There is a
charm in the evershifting mountain and valley scenery,
on such a long route, that Mr. Mason felt in all its delight.

In due time, and with the common experience of the
mixture of bitter and pleasant things, they had labored
over the last of the Alleghany hills; had descended to
the Ohio; had sold, if sale it might be called, their wagon
and team; had purchased a flat boat, and were
floating down the beautiful Ohio, which happened this
Autumn to be in an uncommonly fine stage for boating.
They had been wafted down that beautiful river, had
admired the forests, the vallies and bluffs, and the incipient
towns and villages, as they alternated on its long
course; had encountered the sweeping and turbid
current of the Mississippi; had debarked at the Iron
Banks, and had hired a wagon to carry them out to
the settlement, where, as we have seen, Mr. Mason had
purchased the cabin and clearing, which he now inhabited.

Mr. Pindall and Mr. Garvin, from their wealth, the
number of their slaves, and from their possessing, along
with a drove of horses, four-wheeled carriages, which
were called coaches, were by estimation the distinguished
inhabitants of the settlement. Illiterate and rude as
they were, they perceived, and felt the character of their
new neighbours. An unpleasant sense of mental inferiority
at first awed them to a respectful kindness of
manner towards them; and they evinced no little
pride in showing the new family, with their comparatively
polished manners, and their bright and beautiful

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faces, as their guests. They gave them dinners, in
which there was no want of substantial good cheer;
nor any deficiency of custards, delicious sweet potatoe
pies, and various wild fruits. Aware, that whiskey
would not be the beverage of Mr. Mason's choice, even
generous foreign wines were spread on the board. All
this was painful to the family; for they were conscious
that it was not in their power to return the invitations
in kind, and that they could not expect long to preserve
the respect of such people, in this visible manifestation
of inferiority, in a point, which they would deem of so
much importance. It is, in fact, an unfortunate trait in
the character of people of that class, that they are unduly
delighted with every thing that is new; and caress
recent emigrants for a while. As soon as they become
thoroughly acquainted with them, they discover
something, which awakens envy, or comparison, and
begin to find fault with them; circulate unfavorable
reports of them, and especially, if they are poor, combine
to keep them down, and prevent their emerging
from their humiliation and poverty.

This view of the character of the settlers about them
soon began to disclose itself, and convince them that
there were babbling and disagreeable people else where,
than in New England. But their general circumstances
were so pleasant, and the romance of their condition
still so fresh, during the winter that succeeded
their arrival, that Mr. Mason pronounced himself quite
as well satisfied with his new condition, as he had anticipated.
Young George became at once a hunter of
considerable expertness. It is true, neither he nor his
father, in the phrase of the country, were “quite up”
to the mystery of hunting bears and deer. But, during
this winter, whatever the neighbours said of them
in private, they were externally kind, and sent them, in
presents, more venison and bear's-meat, than they could
consume. Whenever they chose, by rambling a few
hours, they could at any time bring home, for variety in

[figure description] Page 020.[end figure description]

their fare, wild ducks, squirrels, opossums, and rabbits.
The tea, coffee, and sugar, which they had brought with
them, it is true, were soon exhausted, and it did not suit
their scanty resources to replenish these articles. The
want at first, from the power of habit, was felt as a trying
and painful privation. As a substitute, the milk of
a couple of cows, which they had purchased, and which
fed in the rich range near the house, furnished a beverage
more healthful and nutritive, if not so pleasant, as
that which they were compelled to renounce.

We have seen, that from ill health and discouragement
Mr. Mason, when he left New England, had determined
finally to renounce the public duties of his
profession. While he was still fresh in the acquaintance
and respect of the people in his new residence, in their
zeal to hear a new preacher, they wearied him with
solicitations to preach, until finally he consented. A
“preaching,” as it is called, that creates any excitement,
is there not unlike an ordination in New England.
There is a simultaneous rush from all quarters, within
ten miles, to the spectacle. Mrs. Mason, who perceived
from the excitement, what a show it was like to
prove, was compelled, poor woman, to task her utmost
powers, to fit up the sabbath dresses for the dear children,
so as to enable them to make any tolerable appearance,
beside those of her rich neighbours. Eliza
would have been the pride of any mother. It went to
the heart of this mother to find, that, do all she could,
in the way of turning and mending, and contriving, the
sweet child of her pride and her heart would show a
beautiful face and form under the disadvantage of a mean
and faded dress. Mr. Mason had comprehended the
tone of public feeling, and wished not to distinguish
himself by a dress for this occasion different from the
common one. In this single respect Mrs. Mason showed,
that she felt on this subject, as a woman. Forth came
the gorgeous and flowing silk cassock and surplice, and
about his neck were the large and well starched bands.

[figure description] Page 021.[end figure description]

The important Sabbath dawned at length, and the people
were seen, some on horseback, some on foot, some
in dearborns, and some in carriages, emerging from the
deep woods, in every direction, where an alley had
been opened through them. Mr. Mason and every
member of his family made their way on foot to the
place of worship, distant two miles and a half. It was
a large log building, on the verge of a gentle bluff,
whence issued two or three springs, which were enclosed
in unheaded casks, and amply provided with
gourd shells for drinking vessels. The building within
was rough and capacious, and had an aspect, which I
should describe to no purpose to one, who has not seen
such a church. I shall only mention one peculiarity of
the structure. It was so contrived that in the cold
weather of winter, logs, sixteen feet in length, could be
drawn, or, as it is technically phrased, snaked into
church and placed parallel to the mud-daubed wall, and
a fire kindled along the whole length.

The church was full to overflowing, and the display
of scarlet and coquelico dresses and artificial wreaths
and roses, contrasted their barbaric splendor strangely
with the huge logs in their native forms and dimensions,
that composed the walls; and, in the mind of Mrs. Mason,
with the cotton jackets of her boys, patched until
the original cloth could hardly be distinguished. But
had she been able to fathom the hearts of the collected
multitude, she would have discovered, that display of
dress is no passport to the hearts, if it is to the admiration
of beholders. She would have discovered, that her
idolized little girl, in her plain and faded calico robe,
shrinking with modesty, and blushing like the morn,
was a hundred times more an object of interest, than
she would have been in all the glaring finery of the
rest. The uncommon beauty of the children, so habited,
excited no envy, and made itself more conspicuous
by contrast. The brawny bosoms of Hercules Pindall
and Jethro Garvin, Sabbath though it was, were

[figure description] Page 022.[end figure description]

transfixed with the first look of this sweet girl of twelve
years, now just expanding like an opening rose-bud,
into the mature splendor of beauty. Well had it been
for Mr. Mason, too, if his ill fated cassock, surplice,
and bands had never been seen in that church. The
naughty woman of Babylon, in all her meretricious
trappings, could not have excited a more general and
unpleasant revulsion of feeling. The sermon, in fact,
was settled before hand. The audience, it is true, said
nothing on the spot; but they looked with all their
eyes, and like the parrot, “thought the more.” Mr.
Mason was, what we consider, a charming preacher.
He had voice, gesture, manner, tone, pathos, unction,
and deep thought. His heart was full in his discourses,
and a strain of solemn and earnest tenderness ran
through them, that deeply affects my heart in such an
exercise. The sermon, which he now delivered, was
one of his best. But he fought with the air, and afforded
a proof, that what is good and delightful in one
place, may be an abomination in another. The audience
expected, that before the close of his discourse, he
would have made the woods echo. They expected
some of those strong, coarse, and vehement appeals to
their feelings, interlarded with figures and colloquial
phrases and allusions, that were familiar to them, and
their peculiar ways of life. Mr. Mason was himself
affected with his own earnestness, and his eye moistened,
but none of his audience caught the infectious feeling.
They heard him patiently to the end, and dispersed,
with their thoughts and words on a kind of
grumbling key. I am not sure that it would subserve
the cause of criticism, if I were able to relate all the
judgments that were passed upon the services, as the
people made their way home. Some said, that every
thing in the sermon was mixed up, like mush and milk.
Others said, that if that was college-learning preaching,
give them, for their money, old Mr. Dawson, emphatically
denominated, “Thunderlungs.” Some said, there

[figure description] Page 023.[end figure description]

were too many long words, or, as they called them,
“Booktionary” words in it. Others said, that it was
not a searching discourse, and had no heart religion in it.
Others, and they were the most numerous class of critics,
said, it was a “mighty proud” sermon; and one
and all agreed, that the cassock, and gown, &c.
were right Roman concerns, and most of them concluded,
that he was a Roman Catholic. In short, every one
found fault with it in some way. An itinerant preacher
had been of the audience, too, and had most faithfully
espied out, and reported the nakedness of the land.

Mr. Mason was but a man, and as such, had expected,
no doubt, a very different result from this labored
effort. The real judgment of the audience made its
way slowly, but effectually, to him. He saw it in the
manifest coolness of the people, whom he met in the
ensuing week. A shrewd free mulatto woman, who
knew every body, and heard all that was going, called
upon Mrs. Mason, affecting some slight errand, but
really to undo the budget, and let her know the whole
amount of the comments upon her husband's preaching.
The mind of Mr. Mason was fixed at once, in regard
to his duty. He had been wearied into the effort by
solicitation. He had done his best; and he determined
never to expose himself and his cause to the same
humiliation again. A few books and a favorite work,
which he was preparing for the press, afforded sufficient
occupation for all his leisure hours within, when the
weather, or other circumstances, forbade his working
abroad.

In his own family, as a substitute for public worship
on the Sabbath, he adopted a private course of worship,
blending interest and amusement with religious instruction;
associating the highest exercises of the understanding
and the best affections of the heart, with
the tranquillizing and elevating pleasures of religion.
Prayers, instructions, select readings from the scriptures,
tales calculated to excite moral reflection, and to

[figure description] Page 024.[end figure description]

foster tender and benevolent feelings, were read first by
the father, then the mother, and the children in succession.
Their understandings were exercised by questions.
The hearts were improved by representations
of the baseness and self-torment of pride, envy, and the
bad passions in general. One grand aim, in this worship,
was to represent the Almighty in that amiable
character, in which He shows himself in his word, and
in his works, and sedulously to shield their minds from
any associations with his being and providence, but
those of love, mercy, justice, goodness, and truth. It
closed with a kind of court of inquest, in which the parents
were judges, and the children witnesses. The
general tenor of the children's deportment, words, and
actions, during the past week, underwent a solemn review.
The facts were proved. The character and
tendency of the actions pointed out; the source whence
they had arisen, explained; and if matter of reprehension
existed, what ought to have been said or done, in
the case, declared; and, finally, praise and blame
were distributed, according to the merits of the actions.
None but those who have tested this discipline know its
admirable effects.

When these services were concluded, instead of
holding the children in durance, as a penal expiation to
the sanctity of the Sabbath, and weaving in their young
minds associations with it of austerity and gloom, as
soon as the ardors of the sun were quenched by his descent
behind the forests, they walked together into the
woods. Every object in these walks was at once a
source of amusement and instruction, and a theme,
whence Mr. Mason did not fail to deduce new proofs
of the wisdom, mercy, and power of Him, who has
formed every thing by weight and by measure. The
moss, or the evergreen at the foot of the sycamore, the
parroquets settling on their branches to feed, the partridge
flitting from their path, the eagle screaming in
the blue far above the summits of the trees, the

[figure description] Page 025.[end figure description]

carrion vultures, sailing round, and at times to the eye
seeming to lie still in the air, as they scented intensely,
in the heights of the firmament, for their appropriate
food; the squirrels skipping, and displaying themselves
in gambols, or evincing the impotent sauciness of their
pride; the rabbit, starting from the cane-brake; the variety
of trees and shrubs in the wide forest; the prodigious
grape-vines, that climbed to their highest tops; the
violets, even now at the commencement of winter,
starting into bloom; the diversified seed capsules of
flowers, that had already come to maturity; the various
starry forms of the gossamer down of seeds, sailing
slowly in the breeze; in fine, every object, with which
they met, was sufficient to arrest the attention and interest
of the family, and furnish a theme for a lecture
on natural history, or a warm and home-felt sermon on
the goodness and wisdom of the Almighty. The dissipated
people of fashionable life do not await the return
of their nightly gaieties with more earnest expectation
than did this humble and lonely family their Sabbath
evening's walk in the woods. It is thus that minds
rightly constituted and trained, find everywhere amusement
and instruction.

Though they had delightful Sabbath walks in the
woods; though it was a source of constant amusement
to the parents to answer the thousand questions of their
children, raised by the novelty of the objects in their
walks; though the illusive veil, which imagination
spreads over an unexplored region, still rested upon the
country, we must not infer that they were all the time
happy, and had not an abundant mixture of bitter with
their pleasant things. It belongs to earth to have this
mixture, and they were not exempt from the portion of
man everywhere under the sun. On their return from
this evening walk, there was no tea, no coffee, to exhilarate
their evening conversations, and to satisfy the
cravings of long habit. The family often visited their
neighbours by invitation. The rustic abundance and

[figure description] Page 026.[end figure description]

the varied comforts, which were seen there, the result
of a rich soil, and the labor of slaves, contrasted but
unfavourably with their own stinted resources. Mrs.
Mason was herself still young and pretty, and her fading
dress showed to greater disadvantage, beside the gaudy
expensiveness of the appearance of their host. Eliza,
now beginning to feel conscious upon these points, was
dragged to these visits as to a sacrifice. Her very heart
ached to introduce her barefooted little ones among the
creole children, who instinctively held up their red morocco
shoes to provoke a comparison. It was now palpable,
too, that if there were parties and divisions and
heart-burnings in New-England from one cause, there
were here the same evils in a different and more aggravated
form. The same innate seeds of evil temper
produced the same kind of trials, the more galling, because
they were not yet broken to them as they had
been to the other.

In this climate, every one has remarked the human
form, intellect, and passions develope more early than in
the north. Vacant lands of the greatest fertility can
be had at pleasure. All that is necessary for the commencement
of a new married couple is, teams, implements
of agriculture, and a few servants. To build the
houses, quarters, and stables of the establishment, is but
the work of a few days, and the foundation is laid for
rustic opulence and indolence. The amusements of
the husbands are hunting, shooting at a mark, horse-racing,
elections, cards, and drinking; and of the wives,
dances, parties, and tracasserie. Education and mental
discipline, so far from being necessary or in request,
are in the few cases, where they occur, matters to excite
envy and ridicule. Of course, having nothing to
learn, and little to acquire, they marry early. I have,
more than once, seen mothers of fourteen. It need not,
therefore, be matter of surprise, that Hercules Pindall
did not conceal his fondness for Eliza Mason, considered
by her parents no more than a child. Nor will those

[figure description] Page 027.[end figure description]

who know the ways of the country, admire, that this
young giant completely ruled his father, who ruled the
settlement. It soon came to the ears of Mrs. Mason
that this enamoured Cyclops would make proposals for
her daughter. This supposed good fortune was matter of
envy to the other mothers and daughters, nor did it occur
to them that she would be disposed, or even dare
to reject this alliance, should it be proposed. The
prospect that it would be, was a source of serious apprehension
to them.

CHAPTER III.

[figure description] Page 028.[end figure description]

To meet these evils they had one grand resource
beside religion. We would to God that every family in
the world had the same. Nearly one half of the misery
of our earth comes from selfishness and disunion in families.
The heads care not for each other or their children.
The members have no sympathies in common. The
voice of angry jangling, dispute, and separate interest is
heard in the family dwelling. Good angels scatter not
their blessings in such habitations. Such was not this
family. Their evening union was one of peace, love,
and joy. Every one, even to their youngest boy,
brought love and good feeling to the common stock.
From the heads to the youngest member, whoever
touched one touched the whole. There was no one
of the number that had been taught to sit down and
brood over his selfish joys by himself. The bright
evening fire was kindled. The Bible was read. They
prayed together, and each one of these affectionate inmates
loved each other one, as he loved his own soul.
This mutual affection shone in every look and action.
The mother loved her husband and her children with
an affection almost guilty and idolatrous. Nor were
protestations of similar feelings on the part of the husband
and the father at all necessary. The unity and
beauty of this mutual attraction, if the comparison
might not seem too learned, was like that of the sun for
all the planets in our system, which, in their turn, and
according to their size and importance, exercise an attraction
back again upon their centre. When the members
of a family really and sincerely love one another,

[figure description] Page 029.[end figure description]

this alone is food and raiment, and society, and cheerfulness,
and every thing. To such a family external
sorrows and troubles are what weight is, pressing upon
an arch, the strength of which increases with the
amount of pressure applied. But when to poverty and
trouble and evil report and sickness, are added selfishness,
jarring, disputing, and quarrelling within, I know
not how the members of such a family can sustain life.

With this resource, notwithstanding their passing disquietudes
and vexations, the winter wore away comfortably
and pleasantly. On every fine sunshine day Mr.
Mason was seen along with young George before the sun-beams
had dispersed the frost, girdling the trees. The
latter had his little axe and grubbing-hoe, cutting down
the smaller trees, and grubbing up the shrubs by their
roots, delighted with the mellow appearance and the
healthy smell of the virgin mould. A hundred times his
delight was excited by seeing the gray and black squirrels
skip away from the trees which he began to fell. The
parroquets, in their splendid livery of green and gold,
were fluttering about among the sycamores, raising their
shrill scream, as disagreeable as their plumage is brilliant,
and seemed to be scolding at these meddlers with
the freshness of their empire. The red-bird, springing
away from the briar copse, which he began to disturb
with his grubbing-hoe; the powerful mocking-bird seated
at its leisure on a dead branch, and pouring its gay
song, and imitating every noise that was heard; the
loud and joyous bark of the family dog, as he was pursuing
his own sport beside them, digging for an opossum;
the morning crow of the cock; the distant cry of
the hounds in the settlement, ringing through the forests;
the morning mists, lying like the finest drapery of
muslin, spread over the tops of the trees; these, and a
thousand mingled and joyous morning cries of animals
in the woods, filled his young and susceptible heart
with the purest joy. Excitement and the fulness of joy
often arrested his axe and his grubbing-hoe. The

[figure description] Page 030.[end figure description]

father once saw him musing in this way, and asked
him of what he was thinking.

“I cannot tell you,” replied George, laying his hand
upon his bosom, “how glad I feel here, this morning.
When I see the sun slanting his light along the white
arms of the sycamores, and hear the birds sing, and
every thing so gay, I cannot tell you how happy I am.
How different is all this from January in New-England!
Yet, glad as I feel here, I cannot forget the old church
and the grave-yard, and the school-house, and my
school-mates. Oh! if one could be here, and there at
the same time! Before the people came here it was
all woods, without people. Yet, I suppose, the birds
sung as sweetly then as now.”

“Undoubtedly, my son,” answered the father. “This
forest was a temple of God as soon as the waters flowed,
and the trees were green, as much as now. All
these joyous sounds, which you hear, were the morning
praises of the Almighty. Who knows but His angels
feel the same joy at contemplating these green solitudes
which we do? There may be eyes to see, and ears to
hear in these forests, which we cannot behold.”

In such conversations and such pursuits passed away
the morning, until breakfast.

When the labor of clearing was resumed after breakfast,
the mother and Eliza came out, attended by the
younger children, and looked on the work as they sat
knitting on the logs beside the clearing. The crash of
a falling tree was a grand object of awaited excitement
and terror to them. Henry, a fine stout boy of ten,
had already obtained permission to take his share in
these labors. Not unfrequently the whole group of
laborers would suspend their toils from laughter, to see
him tug upon the branch of a shrub, catching by its points
upon others and pulling him back, delighted to see his
little cheeks flush with pride and exercise, and to note
the promise of future perseverance in seeing him tug
until he had overcome the resistance and added it to
the pile.

[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]

After sunset it was a high treat to the children to fire
the huge piles of dry bushes and logs, heaped for burning,
and see the flames rising above the tops of the
highest trees, gleaming in the forests, enlightening every
object as far as they could see, and disturbing the owls
and roosting birds from their retreats. The noise of
the bursting cane-stalks was like the report of a thousand
guns, and they called these evening fires their
celebrations. Not but there were discouragements and
difficulties even in this work of clearing. Mr. Mason
was both unused to labor and feeble in health. A single
Mississippi sycamore of the larger size, afforded
three days' occupation for his best exertions to cut
down. Of course he was compelled to allow all the
larger trees to stand in his clearing, only deadening
them by girdling. His taste on this as on every subject,
was severe to a morbid excess. How it grieved
him to see his rich and level field marred in its appearance
by a hundred huge, standing, dead trees, and the
broken limbs and branches, that the wind was constantly
detaching from them to the ground. It was trying to
his pride, too, to have one of his coarse neighbour planters
regard his work with a sneer of affected pity, expressed
in conversation something like this: “Why,
doctor, if you do not get a greater force you will have
a field hardly large enough for a truck patch. One of
my negroes will cut away more trees in a day than
you would in a month. Doctor, you want some negroes.”
But he generally took especial care not to
offer their services.

But the severest of the whole experiment was splitting
rails. This was a task absolutely beyond the
strength of young George. The kind-hearted boy was
assiduous to hand the wedges and the maul to his exhausted
father. In this most laborious business there is
a dexterity to be learned only by practice. Many a
tree, cut down with great labor, would not split at all.
It was long before Mr. Mason, with his utmost

[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]

exertions, could make twenty-five in a day. It did not
help the matter to be told by those who looked on his
work, that one hundred and fifty a day was the regular
task of each one of their negroes. At night the father's
hands were one blister. Poor George could count his
blisters too. Mrs. Mason bound up their sore hands,
and turned away her face to conceal her tears. The
severe toil, too, caused Mr. Mason rheumatic pains and
sleepless nights. He found, moreover, when stormy
weather confined him to the house, that a body full of
the pains of exhausting labor, would not allow scope to
his thoughts, when he sat down to his great work with
his pen. Unremitting toil, in such a frame, blunts the
sensibilities, suspends the exercise of the imagination
and fancy, and after a fruitless effort to stir up his
thoughts, he was compelled to admit, that severe labor
and writing are incompatible. But neither the voice of
complaining nor of dejection was heard; for in this family
there was union, mutual affection, prayer, confidence
in God, and the hope of immortality.

The middle of March was soon at hand; and in this
climate it is the dawn of Spring. The wilderness began
to be gay. The Red Bud in a thousand places
was one compact tuft of peach-blow flowers. The umbrella
tops of the Dogwoods were covered with their
large blossoms of brilliant white. At every step the
feet trampled on clusters of violets. The swelling buds
and the half formed leaves diffused on every side the
delicious aroma of Spring. The labors of Mr. Mason
had been slow and painful, but they had been constant
and persevering. A little every day soon makes a
great result. In four months the clearing was increased
from six to nine acres, which were well fenced and
prepared for planting. The surface of the soil was
black, rich, and perfectly tender. It was a pleasant
novelty to him to plant corn without ploughing, and
among thick deadened trees, reaching almost to the
clouds. The field was laid out in rows in right lines,

[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]

by taking sight from one tree to another. The father
went before, making a hole for the corn with his hoe.
George followed dropping the corn, and covering it
with his. Eliza, with her face shaded by her large sun
bonnet, and Henry with his broad straw hat, with little
bags pinned to their sides, walked beside George and
his father. They carried beans, the seeds of pumpkins,
squashes, cucumbers, and the different kinds of
melons, to hand to each, where a place offered, that
seemed suitable to these seeds. A garden, or, as the
people call it, a truck patch, was also prepared, and
sowed, and planted with such seeds and transplanted
vegetables as their more considerate neighbours taught
them, were congenial to the soil and climate, or would
be luxuries in the summer, or capable of being preserved
through the winter.

The violent thunderstorms of that climate and season
were at first a source of alarm to the family. They
trembled as they heard the thunder echoing through
the forests, and saw the lightning firing the high, dead
trees. They soon perceived that the thunderbolts fell
harmless to the earth. Their ears became accustomed
to the crash, and the beautiful mornings, that ensued,
hailed by all the birds of spring, and embalming the air
with the mingled ambrosia of the forest, more than
compensated for the passing terrors of the night.
There are a few, and I could wish there were many lovers
of nature, who will be able to comprehend the enjoyment
of this family, on visiting their field the first Sabbath
after their crop had fully come up. It is a delightful
spectacle to any one that has eyes and a heart. But
this family loved nature with a keen relish for her pleasures.
It was the promise of future support to a family
that had nothing else on which to depend. It promised
future subsistence and comfort to all they loved on
earth. It was cultivated vegetation, just sprung up
on the wild soil, where nothing but weeds and bushes
had flourished from the creation. I enter into their

[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]

delight, as their eye caught the straight stems of the
corn, rising in lines that already marked the rows with
a strength of vegetation and a depth of verdure, which
they had never seen corn wear before. Parents and
children gazed with unsated eagerness upon the melons
and cucumbers, starting up with leaves broader and
fresher than any they had ever beheld in New-England.
There they required great care in preparing the hills,
and laborious attention to the kind and amount of the
manure. Here they were barely deposited in the virgin
soil. There, in March, the ground was still covered
with snow. Here, these vegetables had already
thrown out the second leaves. The inspection of the
sweet potatoe patch, which was large, and the hills of
which had been prepared with great care, was a source
of still more gratifying curiosity. The family were exceedingly
fond of this nutritious vegetable, and had
never seen it growing. There are some minds so constituted,
as to imagine with what gratified observation,
they watched the unfolding stem, and the first development
of the leaves of this beautiful creeper.

The season was favorable, and their crop came forward
to their utmost hopes. To watch its daily advance
was a constant source of amusement. But the
sad leaven of sorrow and discouragement remained at
the botom of the cup. The high heats of the new climate
began to make themselves felt early in April.
The lassitude that ensued was a new sensation to the
family, at first scarcely unpleasant. But the increase
of this lassitude, as the season and the heat advanced,
became a source of disheartening apprehension to Mr.
Mason. A half an hour's labor in his field, after the
sun was fully up, completely drenched him in perspiration,
and left him powerless to renew his labor, until
after he had rested an hour on his mattrass. The
reasoning of his inward apprehension was, If such be
the effect of an April sun, what will be that of July and
August? Had he been aware of the wise and kind

[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]

plan of Providence, in the process of acclimation, he
would have dismissed all fears upon this head, and
would have so accommodated himself to the imperceptible
change of the season, as to have been prepared to
meet the high heats of July and August with as little
inconvenience as he felt from those of April.

Their neighbours, now grown familiar with them, had
broken through the first unconscious restraint, arising
from feeling the difference of their education and character.
The respect extorted from them by this comparison,
once laid aside, their feelings naturally vibrated
to the other extreme. The natural dignity of their
manner was now called pride and self-importance. “If
they were such great people,” it was remarked, “that
nobody must speak to them, except with such respect,
why did such poor folks come away from a country,
where people knew what was due to them? Strange,
that they, who had to work like negroes, should hold
their heads so high! It was mighty pretty to see Mrs.
Mason and Eliza look so grand, merely because they
were a little fairer than the creoles.” When Mr. Mason
did preach, he was proud of his college learning,
and had no religion; and when he did not preach, it
was because he was lazy, and never cared any thing
about it from the first. There were two or three wicked
babblers among them, who answered in this settlement
the purposes of newspapers elsewhere, who began
to whisper stories, “that the old man,” as they
called Mr. Mason, “had been driven out of the country
for slandering the President and passing counterfeit
money!” The effect of these conversations was soon
visible to the family, in the cool contemptuousness and
the rude familiarity of their manners toward them.
Many an hour did the family spend in vain conjectures
what could be the cause of this. As these stories remained
uncontradicted, the propagators began to gather
boldness. One of them, aware that the family knew
not the specific charges against them, and desiring that

[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]

they should have a full taste of the bitterness, officiously
pretending kindness and sincerity, divulged the whole
story, and told them with many an ingenious added
comment of his own, all that was said of them.

It does not need much knowledge of human nature
to know what kind of torment the general circulation of
such reports would naturally create in the bosoms of a
high-minded family, with a keen sense of honor. They
had a long debate in conclave upon the question, what
was proper to be done in the case, and whether it
was better to take any steps to vindicate themselves.
In the close of the argument upon which Mr. and Madam
Mason, and George, and Eliza, had each given an
opinion, it was unanimously settled, that people, who
could invent and circulate such falsehoods, would invent
and circulate another brood if these were refuted,
and that it was wise and right to treat the whole affair
with silent contempt. All said that the inventors were
people not worth the trouble of attempting to disprove
what they said. The meeting broke up by a mutual
agreement of each member, to meet the propagators of
these stories as before, and to think and to care nothing
about the slanders. But while we are in the flesh,
we shall always feel as in the flesh. These high-spirited
children promised to forget, and the more they attempted
to do it the more deeply the remembrance and
the humiliation rankled in their bosoms. Time is the
only efficacious remedy for such evils.

Midsummer already furnished their table with green
corn and the common table vegetables of the season in
ample abundance. But their joy in view of the prospects
of their crops was damped by observing, that as
the summer heats advanced, the health of Mr. Mason
more visibly sunk under the influence of the season.
He could no longer labor abroad more than an hour in
the day, and that must be in the morning before the
sun was above the trees. The heavy dews which lay
like rain upon the leaves of the corn, and the rank

[figure description] Page 037.[end figure description]

weeds, were found scarcely less noxious to his health,
when necessarily drenched by them, than the heats of
the sun. Young George, fully comprehending the case,
labored from morning until night to spare his father,
and to keep down the weeds. It discouraged him to
see, that more grew up in a night, than he could cut
down in a day.

In attempting to work with his son in the sweet-potatoe
patch on the fourteenth of July, under the influence
of a powerful sun, Mr. Mason experienced a
sun-stroke and was aided to his bed by the united exertions
of his whole family. For three hours he was
not expected to survive from one moment to another.
I do not design, nor wish to attempt, to describe the
agony of the family, during this interval. He, who
knows how they loved one another, can imagine it.
There are events, too, which bring upon the mind the
stupefaction of a thunder-stroke, and it was only when
Mr. Mason exhibited manifest signs of being out of immediate
danger, that tears were shed in this family.

He slowly revived until the evening. At the hour in
which he had been accustomed to lead in evening
prayers, after informing the children that he was too
weak to do it this evening, he requested them to retire
into George's house, as the smaller cabin was called.
He then held a long and solemn conversation with Mrs.
Mason alone. A thousand of those tender things, which
are appropriate to such conversations, were said upon
both sides. They were such things as such a husband
would naturally say, in such circumstances, to a wife
so loved, and who had been for so many years the
faithful and inseparable companion of his toils, who was
the mother of his children, who was at once so destitute
and helpless, and whom he felt he was about to leave
to the sole care of his five children. I know that such
circumstances are occurring somewhere every hour;
but if the bare recounting them does not make my
reader feel the situation of Mr. Mason, I am aware,

[figure description] Page 038.[end figure description]

that nothing, which I can say, will do it. Having made
many of those remarks, touching his situation, and hers,
and his wishes in regard to her and the children for
the future, she rallied fortitude to ask, why he chose to
make such remarks at this time.

“Because, Eliza,” he replied calmly, and taking her
hand, “I am convinced I shall never rise from the illness
which this disaster has occasioned me.”

Mrs. Mason aswered him with tears, embraces, and
denials, and an extravagance of grief, which soon spent
itself by its own excess. He replied calmly, that, “rational
being were bound by every consideration to take
a forecasting contemplation of great changes of condition
that were certainly before them, and that it much
more became such persons as they were, to foresee the
evils before them, and forearm themselves against them,
than to shut their eyes, like children, upon consequences,
and shrink from duty, through the enervating influence
of grief.” He inculcated again and again upon
his wife, sobbing upon his bosom, that he now felt it
had been the fault of them both, that they had fostered
a morbid and shrinking temperament, the effect of
which had been to unnerve them, and unfit them for
the sterner duties of life He solemnly insisted upon an
absolute trust in the sustaining and gracious care of the
Almighty, and he placed before her the guilt of distrusting
the love and the mercy of Him, “who noteth the
fall of a sparrow, and heareth the young ravens, when
they cry!”

“Dear Eliza,” he continued, “I am aware that after
I am first gone, it will be to no purpose, to expect you
to be wise and firm at once. You know where I am
to rest, under the sycamore. Come there, and think
of the days which we have spent together, and give
scope to the first bursts of grief. The wise and the
unchangeable laws of Providence will prevent my being
visible to you. But I feel that in whatever place and
in whatever manner the All Gracious and All Good

[figure description] Page 039.[end figure description]

shall dispose of me, this mind and this heart must lose
their identity, if I should cease to love you and my
children less than I do now. Nor will He, who gave
me this spirit, so imprison it, as that I shall not be able
to descend to the summits of the forest, to look in upon
you in the morning, and to cheer you to the duty of
watching over our children. I cannot now foresee
what you will do for subsistence, or how you will be
able to rear our dear helpless children among these
rough and wicked people. But I have seen a thousand
times that God never forsakes them, who do not forsake
themselves. You know my motto, “Nil desperandum.”
You have heard me repeat it a thousand times. I am
fully conscious that I have acted too little in the spirit
of this motto myself. I have prayed God a hundred
times, that my children, and especially my dear
George, may be of a firmer spirit than I have had.
Perhaps I have done wrong to bring you here. It is
useless now to spend time in mourning over what is irretrievable.
Besides, at the time of coming to the decision,
to bring you here, I called in aid all the reason
and forecast that I possessed to the deliberation. With
my temperament and under the same circumstances, I
should, probably, come to the same determination
again. I know you are too kind not to forgive what
was done for the best, even if it were wrong. I think,
too, had it pleased God to spare me a few years, that
I should have become comfortable in my circumstances,
and should have felt, that I had done wisely in
seeking independence in this way. As regards the future,
I thank God, that my mind is fixed and settled.
I shall resign my spirit in humble confidence to Him
who gave it, thanking Him, that through his dear Son,
my Saviour, I have not an axiety about it; but am
humbly confident, that in His own gracious way, and in
the mansion fitted for it, He will render me happy.”

To such conversations, which, to say the truth, so
far as respected his impressions, that he should not

[figure description] Page 040.[end figure description]

recover, she had often listened before, Mrs. Mason could
only reply, that she had frequently seen him discouraged
in the same way, and that she had found him
recover notwithstanding; that she did not allow herself
to doubt for a moment, that he would recover now;
that she was ready to promise, if she survived him, that
she would do the best she could; and that she was very
sure, that the best would be so unworthily, that he had
much better live, and see to the management of the
family himself. Thus this solemn conversation terminated;
he assuring her, that he felt his present case
different from any thing he had ever experienced before;
and she, the more earnestly she was urged to
promise him to be courageous and resigned after he
was gone, returning to the beaten track of former
thought and conversation, and warning him that the only
way to give her courage was, to promise her to get
well.

This event occurred on Saturday. During that night
he was feverish and restless. Although, as she remarked,
Mrs. Mason had often heard him assert, in his
periodical turns of ill heath and discouragement, that he
should never recover, she felt this night more than
usually alarmed respecting him. While he lay delirious,
and breathing thick and pantingly, in short and disturbed
slumbers, the dreadful thought presented itself to her,
for the first time, that the husband of her youth was
about to leave her. The loneliness and destitution of
her case, in such a country, and with the care of so
many helpless children, came upon her mind in all the
gloom and dismay of the scene. Those deep and
bitter meditations, with which strangers do not intermeddle,
passed rapidly within. There is but one abiding
resource in cases like these. Happy, and thrice
happy they, who can resort to it with humble boldness.
Mrs. Mason had that happiness. She often and
earnestly wrestled with God for her dear husband, if it
were possible, that the cup of death might pass from

[figure description] Page 041.[end figure description]

him. For herself she prayed, “Our Father, who art
in heaven! in this my extreme distress and dismay,
Thou only canst help. My husband, each of my dear
children, and myself, owe Thee a death. Give us resignation
and confidence, meekly to pay it in thine
own time and way. Only do Thou, in thy great mercy,
sustain us, while we are here, and when we depart, do
Thou save our souls.”

Next day Mr. Mason had strong fever and shortness of
breathing, and was wholly unable to rise from his bed.
The heat of the season was intense, and the exhausting
ardors of the dog-star were in the sky. The paleness
of foreboding anxiety was spread over every countenance
in the family. The physician resided at the
distance of eight miles, and Mr. Mason affirmed, that
his complaint was of a kind to receive no advantage
from his aid, and he was wholly unwilling that they
should incur the useless expense of sending for him.
Mrs. Mason allowed him to believe that his wishes
should be fulfilled, and resorted to the innocent deception
of sending for a physician, without apprising him of it.
George promptly offered to take the trace through the
woods to the bank of the Mississippi, where the physician
resided. Henry begged to be allowed to attend
him. A pretext was invented, to account to Mr. Mason
for their absence through the day. A maternal tear
stood in the eye of Mrs. Mason as she kissed them, and
bade them make haste, and not return without bringing
the doctor. A trip of sixteen miles, through dark
forests, in which they would not pass a single house,
was an exploit sufficiently daunting for two such young
and inexperienced boys. Love triumphs over fear and
death; and these boys so dearly loved their father, that
nothing was formidable to them, which they could do
for him. Such conversations passed between these
affectionate boys, as might be expected from their years,
their errand, and the forests through which they passed.
Little Henry was afraid of the wolves, bears, and

[figure description] Page 042.[end figure description]

panthers. More than once he cried with the soreness of
his feet. Their thoughts naturally tended to despondence.
Once they lost their way, mistaking a cow-path
for their trace. None can tell, if they would not have
wandered into the inextricable tangle of the swamps,
and have perished, had they not providentially been
met by a man hunting his cattle on horseback. He,
seeing them wandering on towards the swamps, naturally
comprehended their mistake, and led them back, and
put them on the right way. They arrived at length on the
banks of the river, and told their tale of distress. The
physician was absent, not to return until night. They
received the promise, that he should be sent on immediately
upon his return. The people of the house,
where the doctor boarded, pitied them, and received
them kindly. They gave them a glass of milk and a
slice of corn bread. But nothing could induce the affectionate
children to tarry longer than half an hour. They
insisted upon starting back to see how their dear father
was. The hour of their return was that of burning noon;
but their road was one continued covert of shade. Besides,
such children as these always find the road home
easier to travel, than that from home. The loneliness of
the way, and their apprehensions from the wild beasts,
and their fears of getting lost again, took from them the
disposition to converse much on the way. They pushed
on at the extent of their walking speed, casting fearful
glances among the bushes, as birds, or small animals
disturbed them. They had arrived in this way, as they
judged, within three miles of home, when the fatigue of
the way, and exhaustion from the heat, compelled them
to sit down and rest themselves.

They reclined themselves on a patch of wild grass at
the foot of a tree. The cheering thought, that they
were so near home, restored to them courage and a disposition
to converse, and the following conversation
passed between them.

Henry. “My feet are not half so sore coming back,

[figure description] Page 043.[end figure description]

as they were on the way out to the river. Why should
they ache less now, than they did then?”

George. “It must be because we love home and
the folks there so dearly, that love pushes us on, and
keeps us from feeling the soreness.”

Henry. “Yes; that is just the case. Dear George,
I am forced to shut my eyes, whenever I think how
papa looked. I never saw him look so before, nor
mama seem so strange. Do you know what is the
matter?”

George. “Indeed I do not. But I heard him tell
mother last night, that he was certainly going to die.”

Henry, (beginning to cry.) “Father shan't die. If he
does, Henry will die too. How came he to come away
to this wicked country to die? When he dies, we shall
all starve to death here in the woods, and the wolves
will come into the house, and eat us. I am sure the
wicked people that talked against papa, would not give
us a slice of bread, to keep us from starving.”

George. “Henry, don't talk so to me. I feel it in
my heart to hate the people there in New-England, that
drove us away to this wild country. I could speak just
such words about them, as the wicked people used in
the boat, when we came down the river. Oh! it is too
bad, to think what will become of dear little Bill and
Tom, and mother, sister and all, when father dies.
I should rather a thousand times we might all die together.”

The boys were tired. The evening and the hour of
discouragement was coming upon them. Henry sobbed,
as if his heart would break. George, too, who
had been praised in the family for his strength of character,
was unnerved, to see his brother cry, and the tears
coursed one another down his cheeks. They had both
indulged in this way for some time, when George, summoning
courage, sprang on his feet, kissed his brother,
and wiped his eyes. “Get up, Henry, and leave off
crying. We can't die but once, thank God. How

[figure description] Page 044.[end figure description]

often has father said over his Latin words to us, which
mean, `Don't give up the ship.' I am getting strong,
you see. I feel that I am to be a man. I love my
dear father better than my eyes. But, you know, he
is always sick. It is a hard thing to think, that my
poor father must die; but then he will be sick no more,
and will be happy in heaven. Never fear. I will take
care of all, when he is gone. To take care of mother,
and the rest of you, I would work like a slave, and be
stronger than a lion. Don't cry any more, Henry;
father will get well, when the doctor comes. While
he is sick, I will work harder, and take care of you all.”
Saying this, he looked cheerful, and took his brother by
the hand, and raised him up, embraced him, and kissed
him again and again, and talked to him in a voice so
firm and cheering, that Henry caught something of his
courage and cheerfulness, and rose up, and they resumed
their way, taking each other by the hand. Shortly
after they arrived safely at home.

The physician in due time arrived, and expressed no
certain opinion in reference to the case of his patient.
Hope and fear alternately swayed the family for some
days, and they endured the wearing agony of suspense.
Mr. Mason was sometimes better, and sometimes worse,
and as happens to nervous people, was elevated, or
depressed in his mind, according to his passing feelings.
Sometimes he was encouraged to think he might recover
speedily; and in an hour afterwards was in complete
despondency. Perhaps he might have recovered, had
he been able to obtain the common comforts which his
case required. But the depressing heat of the season
was against him. Affection and ingenuity devised every
thing that the field, the garden, or the woods could
yield, in the way of sustenance, or medicine. But
neither affection nor ingenuity can create from nothing;
and a hundred things, so necessary to the comfort and
recovery of a sick man, like him, were absolutely out
of the question in that place. Every one of the family

[figure description] Page 045.[end figure description]

seemed completely vanquished with grief and dejection,
but George. Since his return from the river to
procure the physician, his character appeared to have
undergone an entire transformation. He alone shed no
tears. He looked thoughtful, but was always calm.
It was sufficiently evident, at the same time, that this
apparently strange conduct, in an inexperienced boy of
fourteen, who had been hitherto supposed to possess
the keenest sensibility, did not at all result from want
of feeling; but from a high purpose, and a fixed determination,
not to allow grief and discouragement to
unnerve him from his duty. His thoughts appeared
constantly occupied in inventing some kind of food, or
drink, that might be strengthening or pleasant to his
father. He seemed at once to be endowed with courage,
vigilance, and patience for watching with him, and
the skill and management of a nurse to take care of
him. It was affecting, to see with what heroism, zeal,
and tenderness this noble boy discharged offices, sometimes
laborious, sometimes disagreeable, and always
trying to the patience and fortitude even of professed
attendants upon the sick. It was love that taught him,
and every where, and in all trials, love can teach every
thing, and, like faith, can remove mountains.

The love of Mr. Mason, for this son, had not been
visibly partial, but he had been the helper and the companion
of his father. The firmness of the child exactly
matched with the ever-changing spirits of the parent.
It will be manifest, that this display of such new and
untried proofs of character in the son, on such an occasion,
would not abate the affection and confidence of
the father. The rest, the mother, Eliza, and Henry,
took their turn, indeed, in watching; but nothing ever
kept George long from his station beside the bed, by
night and by day. There sat the one holding the hand
of his father, and looking steadily on his pale and emaciated
face. The look that was every moment returned,
was that undescribed gaze, that explains all that

[figure description] Page 046.[end figure description]

can be explained, of the bitterness of parting, and the
dreaded mystery of death. Whenever George was for
a moment away, and the father startled from sleep in
his absence, the first thing that his eye sought was this
cherished son. When George returned, resomed his
place, and asked what he could do, the reply, as his
satisfied countenance rested upon his son, was, “Nothing.”

The sickness of Mr. Mason had taken the form of a
gradual, and almost imperceptible, but fixed, and in-curable
decay. The physician came a few times, and
then assured Mrs. Mason, in private, that he could do
nothing more for him. It would be to us an affecting,
as it might be to others a useful history, to relate how
suspense in this family settled into the conviction, that
nothing could save him, and that they must prepare to
part with him. Words go but a little way, in explaining
this process, every stage of which is agony. The
heart of the reader may not be affected with it, as he
says, “It is the order of things every where. It has
taken place in uncounted millions of cases, and will so
continue to the end of time.” True; but to this family,
alone in the woods, it was as hard and as trying to
think of laying that venerated form in the silence of
death in the ground, as though it were the only case of
the kind, that could ever happen on the earth.

We ought to record for the honor of human nature, that
the neighbours, although seemingly insensible, felt that
there was misery in this family. Towards the close of
his sickness, their slaves were sent every day to watch,
and aid the family, and to bring to it such food and
comforts as their case required. They performed, also,
all the laborious duties of preparation for harvest, and
left the family no cares but to watch over its dying head.
No grief arrests the steady course of nature. The field
ripened. The family gradually reached the conviction,
that their head must be taken away, and were still
snatching at the hope, that it would be a long time

[figure description] Page 047.[end figure description]

before he would wear out. Thus it is, that like children
in the dark, we contrive to shut our eyes upon events,
and as one bubble bursts, grasp at another.

For some days, before the scene closed, Mr. Mason
was lethargic, arousing only at intervals to transient fits
of distress, and turning from side to side. He spoke
little more, than to call for water. The hand of George
was instantly clasped in his, and his satisfied look told,
that he had then obtained all that he wanted. His lips
would often move for a moment, and perhaps a tear or
two would roll down his cheeks, and he dozed again.

Such was the order of things until the twenty-fifth of
September. It was Sabbath evening, and a glorious
sunset. The sun was sinking behind the trees into the
misty veil of Indian summer. The turtle-doves were
cooing mournfully in the woods, as though sad at the
departure of day. Mr. Mason aroused, and instead of
relapsing, as usual, into lethargic drowsiness, seemed to
revive to unwonted consciousness. It was the mysterious
but common and sublime effort of the conscious
spirit, about to take its final flight. He requested that
his family might assemble about his bed. The whole
family, even to the youngest member, was instantly about
him, in that speechless awe, in that mute and unutterable
excitement of love, astonishment, and terror, which
presses too hard upon the whole nature, to allow scope
to any individual feeling. They were there to hear his
last words and to witness his last struggles with mortality.
In his left hand was a hand of each of the children;
in his right, that of the worn, pale, and speechless
companion of his toils. His eyes were turned upwards,
and his lips moved evidently in silent prayer. In
noticing what passed across his brow, any one might have
seen the earnestness of his pleading with Him, who
heareth prayer. It was obvious, that the last movements
of his spirit were those of agonizing wrestlings
with the Angel of the convenant, and the solemn words
of mingled faith, humility, and confidence in God, “I

[figure description] Page 048.[end figure description]

will not let Thee go, until Thou bless them.” When
he had finished this sublime and speechless communion
of a dying father with his Maker, in a firm and distinct
voice he uttered the following words:

“The last twelve years of my life have been a succession
of days of pain and sorrow. I have a thousand
times anticipated all the circumstances of this hour.
For myself, I should rejoice to be gone. Death is but
the pang of a moment. All that is terrible in this hour
is, in leaving you behind. Love of you has such entire
possession of this heart, that it seems to me, as if it
could not grow cold. Eliza, my wife, you need
strength, and while you implore it of God, struggle for
it yourself. We are not here in sin and tears, to melt
in sorrow, but to conflict firmly with trial, temptation,
and at last with death. My last charge to you is, to
shed as few tears for me, as may be, after I am gone,
and to strive to associate pleasant instead of painful remembrances
with the intercourse we have had together
and with this parting. Gird up the loins of your
mind, and strengthen yourself in the strength of God for
your duty. Above all, look to God, and never despair.
Will you promise your dying husband this?”

A shuddering movement of her head gave consent.

“For you, George,” he continued, “I see the firmness
of duty in your eye. God has endowed you, as by a miracle,
with the strength of mind necessary to take care of
this helpless family. You are to labor, and to pray, that
you may become, as of iron, that you may have no sensibilities,
no fountains of tears; that you may act with
the singleness of firm and wise judgment for these dear
ones, that I now commit, under God, to your care.
In the management of them, will you be faithful, wise,
affectionate, and what I, your father, have not been,
firm? You are young, to take such a charge, and
make such a promise.”

A slight spasm passed over the beautiful and sun-burnt
face of the noble boy, which indicated, that the

[figure description] Page 049.[end figure description]

machinery of tears was in operation. It was the struggle
of but a moment. He bent down, and kissed his
father's forehead, and uttered in a firm and unfaltering
voice, “Dear father, think only of yourself. I promise
all.” The father convulsively grasped his hand, looked
eagerly, and intently in his face, and said in a low and
expiring voice, “Now, Lord, lettest Thou thy servant
depart in peace.”

My reader has been over the dying bed of a father,
departing from the midst of his family. I leave it to
his thoughts to supply what followed. If the holy angels
are affected with aught that belongs to mortality,
it is with a scene like this. It is sufficient to say, that
no sobbing, no tears, no holding to this earthly prop
retained his spirit in its flight. After the sad example of
all before him, he heaved his last sigh. The bosom,
which still preserved the semblance of what had been
the seat of passion and sorrow, sunk to the stillness of
other inanimate matter.

CHAPTER IV.

[figure description] Page 050.[end figure description]

He clothes the lily—notes a sparrow's fall,
And looks, intent, on man, his handy work.

A WOMAN, accustomed to those duties in the settlement,
with the aid of two or three slaves, robed and
prepared the body for its last sleep. Nor, while these
painful duties were performing, were they interrupted
by the cries and shrieks to which, on such occasions,
they were accustomed. These mourners remembered
the promise, so recently given, and they walked backwards
and forwards in the paleness of death; but there
were no words, no audible lamentings. The children
clung to their mother with an expression of terror and
awe, but were not heard to cry. Silent respect and
sympathy were on the countenances of the neighbours.
The passing slaves stopped, took off their hats, and
gazed respectfully for a moment on the face of the
dead, and passed on. Slander had been busy with the
name of the deceased, while living; but the claims of
truth and justice are every where felt to a certain degree.
The manner of these people told more eloquently
than any words, they could have used, what
had been their real thoughts of him, while living. Of
the case of the mourners we need say nothing. The
Author of nature called them to endure it. My reader
knows, as I know, that this is no distress of fiction; but
that we have each in our turn to be actors in the same
scene. There is as much truth as poetry in the figure
which calls this earth “a vale of tears.”

I may remark in passing, that it is the character of
people, such as those among whom Mr. Mason deceased,
to be deeply moved with such scenes of distress,
as these. Whatever appeals directly to their senses
powerfully affects them. They forgot their envy and

[figure description] Page 051.[end figure description]

slander of the living, and were saying in an under tone
among themselves, what a wise and learned man he
had been, and how they pitied his poor and helpless
family. They were considerate and unequivocal in the
offer of the aid of servants, provisions, and ail the little
decencies, and mournful preparations for such a funeral
as the customs of that region prescribed. There was
no white person at that time within thirty miles, who
was accustomed to perform the usual religious duties
on that occasion. This circumstance was stated to
Mrs. Mason. It aroused her feelings from the stupefaction
of her distress to think that the remains of her
dear husband, who had so many hundred times uttered
the voice of prayer over the lifeless bodies of others,
should be carried to their long home without prayer.
Pompey, a converted methodist slave of Mr. Garvin,
was in the habit of preaching to the negroes, and of
praying at their funerals. Mrs. Mason very properly
preferred, that he should perform the funeral solemnities
of her husband, rather than to have none on the
occasion. Through a pardonable remain of former passions,
and the feelings which had been nurtured in
another country and another order of things. Mrs.
Mason chose that the body of her deceased husband
should be placed in the coffin, robed in the gown and
bands, the insignia of his former office and standing.

I should be glad to give my youthful reader as distinct
an image, as I have myself of this rustic funeral in
the Mississippi forest. I see the two solitary cabins
standing in the midst of the corn, the smaller cabin over-topped
by the height of the surrounding corn. I see
the high and zig-zag fence ten rails high, that surrounds
the field, and the hewn puncheon steps in the form of
crosses, by which the people crossed over the fence into
the enclosure; the smooth and beaten foot-path amidst
the weeds, that leads through the corn-field to the cabins.
I see the dead trees throwing aloft their naked
stems from amidst the corn. I mark the square and

[figure description] Page 052.[end figure description]

compact enclosure of the deep green forest, which limits
the prospect to the summits of the corn-stalks, the
forest, and the sky. A path is cut through the corn a
few feet wide to a huge sycamore left in its full verdure
in one corner of the field, where Mr. Mason used
to repose with George, when he was weary, and where
he had expressed a wish, during his sickness, that he
might be buried. Under that tree is the open grave.
Before the door of the cabin, and shaded by the western
slope of the sun behind it, is the unpainted coffin,
wanting the covering plank. In it is the lifeless form
of the pastor, the cheek blanched to the color of the
bands about the neck, and contrasting so strongly with
the full and flowing black silk robe, in which, in the far
country of his birth, he had been accustomed to go up
to the house of the Lord. I see the white mothers,
their children, and a considerable number of blacks,
who had been permitted to attend the funeral in consideration
of the service, which was to be performed by
one of their number. I see the tall and swarthy planters
with the sternness and authority of the rude despotism,
which they exercise over their slaves, and their
conscious feeling of their standing and importance, impressed
upon their countenances. I see the pale and
subdued faces of the little group of mourners, struggling
hard with nature against lamentations and tears. They
could not have, and they needed not, the expensive and
sable trappings, which fashion has required for the show
of grief. Their faded weeds, and their mended dresses
were in perfect keeping with the utter despondency in
their countenances, and their forlorn and desolate prospects.

The assembled group was summoned to prayer.
The black, who officiated, by the contributions of his
fellow-servants of the whole settlement, was dressed in
a grab as near like that of the methodist ministers, who
were in habit of preaching in the settlement, as the case
would admit. The position was to him one of novelty

[figure description] Page 053.[end figure description]

and of awe. His honest and simple heart was affected
at once with the extreme distress of the mourners and
the trying position, in which he was placed. He began
at first in awkward and unsuccessful attempts to imitate
the language and manner of educated ministers. He
soon felt the hopelessness of the effort; and poured out
the earnest, simple, and spontaneous effusions of real
prayer in the tones of the heart, and in language not less
impressive from being uttered in the dialect of a negro.
He dissolved into tears from his own earnestness, and
while the honest and sable faces of hi fellow-servants
were bathed in tears, the contagion of sympathy extended
through the audience, producing a general burst
of grief. I should despair of being able at all to catch
the living peculiarities and dialect of the discourse, or
exhortation, which followed. Nevertheless, I shall attempt
an outline of the beginning, which may fairly
serve as a sample of the rest.

“White Massas and people, please to hark, and hear
the poor words of Pompey. Great God let white men
bring poor Pompey over the sea, and make him work
hard in field. Great God good, when he seem hard
with us. He send good men to turn Pompey's heart,
and make him christian. Strange things God work.
Here Massa Mason, great Yankee preacher, know all
tongues, read all books, wear the grand gown, you see
there in coffin, preach in big meetin. He come way
off here to Massaseepe to die, die in the woods. Nobody
pray over him, but poor Pompey. Well. Me
think all one thing fore God. Me feel here, when me
die, me go to heaven. God no turn me out, cause me
no got book-learning. Massa Mason he die, he go to
heaven. Oh! Lord God, touch Pompey's lips, that
he speak a word in season to poor Missis, and the dear
children. Oh! Missis! you see heaven, you no want
him back. No sin, no labor, no tears.”

And the poor, earnest slave proceeded to pour forth
from the fulness of his heart, all the motives of

[figure description] Page 054.[end figure description]

resignation, patience, and hope, that his retentive memory,
and the excitement of his feelings, enabled him to utter.
For me, I have often heard the cold and studied words
of doctors, learned, and famed in the schools, with less
effect, than the heart-felt preaching of this devout
slave. The audience melted anew into tears, as he
proceeded; and those of Mrs. Mason, and those of her
children, who were able to comprehend, were tears of
resignation and religion. When the service was finished,
he recited, in his peculiar accent and dialect,
those beautiful verses of a methodist funeral hymn,
which he had so often heard repeated, as to have committed
to memory.

“Those eyes he so seldom could close,
By sorrow forbidden to sleep,” &c.

I have never heard voices so sweet, as of some female
blacks on such occasions. The thrilling tones
will remain on my memory, while I live. To me, too,
there is something affecting in that sacred music in
which the whole congregation join. Every one joined
in this hymn, and it seemed to be a general wail sent
up from the woods to heaven.

When the hymn was closed, the man, who officiated
as master of ceremonies on the occasion, proposed
to those, who wished to take a last look at the deceased,
to come forward. It is a common custom in that country
for widows, who affect refinement, to shut themselves
in retirement from the funeral solemnities of their husbands.
Such was not the way, in which Mrs. Mason
expressed her grief, and her affection. She walked
firmly to the coffin, and all her children came round her.
They looked long, and without tears, at the pale and
care-worn countenance, and the deep and sunken eye
of the husband, the father, the being who had been,
next to God, their stay and their dependence. Well
might the widow remember the day, when in the prime
of youth, love, and hope, in the same robes of office, in

[figure description] Page 055.[end figure description]

which his body was now lying before her in the coffin,
he had led her to the church, the sabbath after their
marriage. Oh! there are views and reflections of a
moment, that fill remembrances of years. The look of
unutterable thoughts and feelings was over. The unpainted
cover was applied to the coffin, and the nails
were driven. Twelve of the most substantial planters
were the bearers. The mourners walked directly behind
the coffin, and the whole mass followed through
the corn-field in a crowd. The coffin was let down into
the grave, and the fresh and black soil was heaped
upon it. According to the affecting and universal custom
of that region, each one present gathered up a
handful of earth, and threw into the grave. A couple
of stakes were planted, the one at the head, and the
other at the foot of the grave; and the neighbours dispersed
to their several abodes, and the widow and her
children returned to their desolate dwelling.

I feel a chill pass over me, as in imagination I look
in this evening upon this desolate family. I mark the
empty chair, where the deceased had been used to sit.
I observe his vacant place at the rustic table, and the
supper removed untouched. I remark the deeper sense
of desertion and loneliness, when Mrs. Mason took down
the family Bible at the accustomed hour of evening
prayer, and gave it to George. The noble boy remembered,
that his dying father had delegated to him the
responsible and patriarchal authority of head of the
family, and had warned him against giving way to sorrow
and tears. He opened the Bible at that sublime and
pathetic chapter of Job, which begins, “Man, that is
born of a woman, is but of few days, and full of trouble:”
a strain of poetry so deep, pathetic, and sublime,
that it reads in my ear, like a funeral hymn, with the
accompaniments of an organ. He had reduced to
writing his father's evening prayer, as he remembered it,
and in a firm and distinct voice he read it. He sung
sweetly, and had long been accustomed to raise the

[figure description] Page 056.[end figure description]

evening hymn. It was an effort beyond his firmness,
and instead of the customary concert of voices, was
met by a general burst of grief. I need not describe,
how dark this night looked to the children, as it settled
on the forests, nor describe the thrill, with which the
long and dismal howl of the wolves, echoing through
the woods, came upon their ears; nor need I mention
the convulsive shudder, with which her orphan daughter
lay down with her upon the mattrass, on which her
father had died.

The days that followed, seemed to them of immeasurable
length. George and William went to the
field, as they had been wout, when their father was alive—
for on the first morning after the funeral, it was agreed,
that to proceed to their duties, as usual, was the proper
construction of his dying charge. Resolution in
a well-principled mind can do much. But the heart
knoweth, and will feel, its own bitterness. The boys
dreamed at their task, or thought too intently of something
beside it, to make much progress. Days, however
prolonged by sorrow, came and went to them, as
though they had been in joy. For a few days the
neighbours looked in upon them, with countenances of
sympathy for their distress; but in a fortnight all this was
to them, as though it had not been, and the bereaved
family was regarded with as much indifference, as the
dead trees about the dwelling. After that, had it not
been for the connexion of some of their own selfish
feelings with their case, whether they were naked or
clothed, whether they were hungry or fed full, whether
their hearts ached or were glad, would have been
known only to themselves and God.

It is not with the idle desire to sadden my youthful
reader with the relation of the details of a funeral, that
I have recorded the above minute delineation of this.
We all know, that man is born to die, and that these
things belong to our mortal condition. We know, too,
that sympathy with distress is one of the purest and best

[figure description] Page 057.[end figure description]

feelings of our nature. It is never excited, without
rendering the subject of it better. I have wished to inspire
sympathy in the young bosom of my reader. I
have wished, above all, to furnish, by example, lessons of
duty, exertion, firmness, and industry under the utmost
pressure of bereavement and poverty.

I do not purpose very particularly to narrate the subsequent
fortunes of this bereaved family, any farther,
than as their deportment is calculated to furnish these
lessons. I have more particularly in view to develope
the character and conduct of George. It is only
necessary to say, that for the present the family were
amply supplied with corn, and the common vegetables
from their field, which nature had been beneficently
ripening for them, during their utmost distress. They
might, therefore, behold the approach of winter without
any immediate apprehension of starving. But a family
may suffer, and suffer acutely, from poverty, after the
fear of the immediate want of food is removed. The
clothes, which they had brought with them from New-England,
were wearing out, and there were no means remaining
to them to replace them. The deer-skin dress,
so common in the country, was still more expensive to
purchase, than the cheap domestic articles of the country.
Either were alike beyond her means, which, as
regarded money, by the sickness and death of Mr.
Mason were entirely exhausted. There are many resorts
and expedients in such cases to which backwoods
people are accustomed, which this family had yet to
learn. The decent pride of the mother had hitherto
kept the clothes of her children whole, by patching and
mending. But this could not be possible much longer.
It is the real pinching and misery of poverty, for such
a family, to see one another becoming ragged, and an
object of scorn to the rude and undistinguishing passengers.
There are severe frosts even in that climate.
Nor could five children be always confined to the narrow
precincts of a log-house. In the bright and delightful

[figure description] Page 058.[end figure description]

frosty mornings of the first of winter, it is natural, that
children should feel the cheering elasticity and invigorating
influence of the frosts, as other animals. They
soon, like the domestic fowls and animals, became accustomed
to running abroad unshod. But, when they
returned from their excursions, to hover round the fire,
their feet, red, inflamed, and smarting to agony, with
the reaction of the fire, the tender mother felt the inflammation
as keenly as though it had been on her own
heart. She saw, also, with humiliation and bitterness,
rather than the natural maternal pride, the ripening
beauty of her daughter, so strongly opposed to the forlornness
of her dress and condition. Her own troubles
of the same sort were as nothing in the comparison.

The mode, in which herself and daughter obtained
a partial and present relief from these difficulties, was
scarcely less embarrassing than the difficulties themselves.
Their utter destitution and inability to remedy
it, were matter of common conversation among their
neighbours. To some it was a theme of mere indifferent
conversation. To some, who regarded their imagined
pretensions to something above them, it was a
subject of envious gratification. From Hercules Pindall
and Jethro Garvin it effectually excluded the view
of Eliza Mason. She was invited to their junkets, their
holiday amusements, and their Sabbath meetings, by
their sisters to no purpose, and their ingenuity readily
assigned the reason. The influence, which these Herculean
rustics possessed with their parents, induced
them, with no small degree of parade, since they found
it must be done, to present the mother and daughter
each with a new dress. The articles presented were
not in many respects such, as they would have chosen,
nor such, as befitted their condition. But necessity,
such as theirs, they thought, ought not to know the
laws of pride or taste. The mothers of these young
men presented the articles, not forgetting their way of
emblazoning their own charity and good feelings in the

[figure description] Page 059.[end figure description]

case, not manifesting much delicacy, in touching
upon their known poverty, nor failing to leave broad
hints, that they expected that the mother and daughter,
thus clad, would show themselves abroad, and
not sit there moping at home, mourning for one,
who could never return to them. Of Eliza, they said,
it was a pity, that she should always be shut up in the
cabin, and not learn any thing of the pleasures and fashions
of the world. They expected, that she would
come and see their daughters; and particularly invited
Mrs. Mason to bring her and George to a party, and a
nut-gathering, which was to take place at the house of
Mrs. Pindall in a few days, stating, as a particular accommodation
of considerate feeling, that out of regard
to their case, as mourners, there was to be no dancing,
which would otherwise have made a part of the amusements
on the occasion.

Mrs. Mason's mind was placed in a state of painful
doubt and perplexity, whether she ought, under such
circumstances, to accept the presents at all. Necessity,
and scruples of conscience, which arose from fear
that pride would dictate the refusal, induced her to accept
the offered presents. She stated, however, and
that distinctly, that she should not be understood, by
accepting them, to lay herself or her daughter under
any obligations of any kind, but those of gratitude, and
that she thought her peculiar troubles were too recent
to allow her properly to go to such a place, on such an
occasion, but that she would take the matter into consideration,
and give them such an answer, as should be
thought right, after such deliberation. I hope my reader
will never be placed in a situation like that of this
mother, needing such assistance, and yet dreading the
pride, that would refuse it, and the obligations to be
incurred by receiving it; recoiling from any intimate
connexion with the donors, yet, out of tender regard to
those dearer than life, dreading to provoke their wrath,
and the weight of their power, by showing a manifest

[figure description] Page 060.[end figure description]

purpose to avoid them. Such was precisely the relation
of Mrs. Mason with these neighbours, whose good
will, she was aware, was absolutely essential to her.

While the family deliberated upon the impropriety of
going to a party, in such a place, in six weeks from the
time of the decease of its head, the other family, anticipating
the view, which they would take of the affair,
changed the name of it to a “preaching,” against which
they foresaw no objection could lie. This settled the
case, and she became convinced, that duty and interest
called on her to accept the invitation. So, arming her
daughter with all the preparatory cautions, which she
could devise, how to conduct with the young people,
when they should be by themselves, she sent a note,
signifying, that she would accept their invitation, and
spend the day and the evening with them, as requested.

When the important day arrived, George was left to
keep house with the care of the younger children, while
the mother and daughter, in their new dresses, with
hearts aching with apprehension, were helped into the
carriage, which Mr. Pindall had sent, in great form, to
convey them to the feast. When they arrived, they
found the table spread in a very large hall, the walls of
which were of fresh hewn logs, decked everywhere
with evergreens, and the last flowers of the season.
This hall answered alternately the purpose of a ball-room
and a church. The company was a selection of
all the considerable planters for ten miles round. The
number was twenty, with twice as many sons and
daughters. The latter, if not generally beautiful in
person, were tall, graceful, and powerful in form. Six
yellow women, and as many yellow men, waited at table
in liveries. The planters and their wives were
dressed in their best, and their daughters, as flaunty,
as red, coquelico, and crimson could make them.

The preaching, as we have remarked, was the pretence
for the dinner, and answered, besides, the purpose
of satisfying a multitude of the settlement, that

[figure description] Page 061.[end figure description]

could not be invited to the dinner. To have received
from such rich people an invitation to come there, and
feast upon the good word, sent them away satisfied.
The preaching was of course the first in order. The
minister was ignorant and heavy, and withal smelt the
flavor of the preparing dinner so keenly, that he hurried
through his reluctant services as fast as possible, curtailing
every part of them, but the burst of noise and
passion at the close. The good man finished the short
campaign, as Bonaparte said, “with a clap of thunder.”
The lesser people, who might not abide the
dinner, retired, apparently well satisfied with their penny-worth;
and the preacher made his way to the dinner-table,
as glad to leave the services as the people
were to hear him say, Amen.

The important matter of arranging the parties at table
was next to be settled. It might have been a point
of as much difficulty and delay as occurred between
the duke and Don Quixote, on a similar occasion, had
it not been announced, that this was the freedom dinner
of young Mr. Hercules Pindall, and that he had of
course the privilege of assigning places at the table as
he pleased. The young man, dressed in his freedom
suit of rich blue broadcloth, and a splendid scarlet sash
about his waist, and with all his “blushing honors thick
upon him,” proceeded immediately to discharge his
delegated duties. I am only interested to mention,
that Mrs. Mason was seated high in honor, on the right
hand of the head of the table, and her daughter opposite
her on the left. Mr. Hercules took the head himself,
and his mother was at the foot. These important
preliminaries settled, the remainder of the company,
old and young, arranged themselves at their choice.
The table groaned with turkeys, venison, beef, perk,
pies, vegetables, and all the foreign luxuries, which the
steam-boats brought from New-Orleans; in short every
thing, that the country could furnish, or the luxury of
cooking in that region prepare. The clatter of knives

[figure description] Page 062.[end figure description]

and forks followed, and the gay and good-natured conversation,
inspired by the sight of beauty, and the palpable
relish of good cheer, still further aided by the artificial
excitement of wine and whiskey-punch, produced
that Babel mixture of sounds, that every one, who has
been at such a place, so well remembers. Nor let
those, who have had the honor to be present at great
and given dinners, among the men of power, place, and
opulence in cities, vainly think, that elegance, and wisdom,
and wit, will die with them. There was as much
smirking and showing off here as there. There were
as many attempts at wit, and a much greater amount of
laughter. There was as much concealed passion of
every sort. In short, there was at this table a sample
of every thing that has been seen in pavilions and palaces,
on a like occasion. The grand git of the merriment,
however, was the happy era of the arrival at
majority of Mr. Hercules, and a great many broad allusions
to a supposed union, that was contemplated between
the tall and powerful young heir, and the sweet
and blushing child, who sat in her weeds on his left.
Her exquisite beauty drew from these hearty fellows
the strong terms of encomium, in which backwoodsmen
know so well how to express themselves. Hercules,
too, elevated by his new dignity, and warmed by the
occasion and a glass of wine above fear, made love to
the shrinking Eliza in direct and strong terms, and in a
style and language so new and curious, that, child and
inexperienced as she was, in another situation, and under
other circumstances, it could not but have drawn
smiles from a girl, now turned of thirteen, with fine natural
powers, and an arch eye. As it was, the whole
scene inspired her with terror and aversion. She had
recently learned, that the father of Hercules had a claim
to the land on which her mother lived, supposed to be
better, than that which her deceased father had purchased.
In many ways she felt, that her mother was
in the power of this man, so courted, and dreaded

[figure description] Page 063.[end figure description]

through the settlement. Her charge from her mother
had been to steer in the midst between encouraging,
and affronting this young swain. Amidst the uproar
and clatter her mother could only partially hear what
he said to her, and divine the purport and effect, by
discovering the alternate changes from the rose to the
lily, in the countenance of her dear orphan.

The dinner terminated, as such affairs in such places
usually do, except that at the earnest remonstrances of
the host, there was little intoxication, and the jolly planters
arose from table, only “well to live,” as the phrase
was among them. They dispersed, followed by their
dog and egroes, to shoot at a mark, and decide the
comparative merits of the horses, that were entered
for the next horse-race. The married ladies retired to
another room, to commence a quilting. The young
gentlemen and ladies paired themselves and marched off
into the woods, to witness the cutting of a bee-tree, and
to gather grapes and peccans. Hercules would have
insisted upon leading off Eliza, but with a shrewdness
and a knowledge of things, which might not have been
expected from her age, she clung firmly to the arm of
his sister, Letitia, so far a blue-stocking, as to be able
to read a novel with very little spelling. Seeing himself
anticipated in his purpose, the young gentleman
had nothing to do, but to saunter, somewhat moodily,
by the side of his sister.

It was a gay spectacle, to see so many girls in their
gaudy dresses, and with their streamers fluttering in the
breeze, as they spread n groups among the pawpaw
groves, under natural bowers, covered with the rich
clusters of the blue grape. It was the sweet autumnal
season of the south country, in which the air is bland,
the temperature delicious. The leaves were plashing
in the little pools; and those that remained were red,
yellow crimson, or sear, and in every rich and mellow
tint, from green to brown. There was chatting, and
laughing, and reckless gaiety in abundance; and even

[figure description] Page 064.[end figure description]

Eliza caught the gaiety of the rest, and the inspiration
of the scene, and would have been cheerful, but for her
terror of the tall young man, whose eye was so constantly
fixed on hers, with an expression, before which
hers quailed. For the rest, they were as merry, and
as witty, and made love in their way as heartily, and to
as much purpose, and all their thoughts, hopes, desires,
and affections were as completely filled with the
scene, and, probably, far more so, than are the gay
parties at Ranelagh.

When they arrived at the point proposed, Miss Letitia
informed her young friend, as Hercules left them for
a moment, that his inventive brain, inspired, as she insinuated,
by love, had devised the striking spectacle,
that they were now to witness. They had come to a
grand, perpendicular, lime-stone bluff, four hundred
feet high, down which precipitated a white sheet of
water from a spring on the summit, looking like a wide
ribband of silver-lustre, suspended in the air, and falling
with a pleasant murmur into a basin at the foot of
the bluff. Thence it wound away in a still stream,
which crept slowly through the bottom. On the banks
of this stream was a wide turf, covered with the most
splendid mosses, short, silken, and seeming like buffgreen
velvet. It was shaded with prodigious sycamores
and peccans, alive with wild pigeons and parroquets,
feeding on the grapes and the nuts. At the
basin, refreshments, cakes, pies, and claret wine, were
prepared, and two or three blacks, dressed in fantastic
finery, played the fiddle and the hurdy-gurdy.

Beside three trees at a proper distance stood three
negroes, each with an axe in his hand. The young
gentlemen and ladies were all assembled around the
fountain. The negroes were scraping their fiddles
and hurdy-gurdies in great glee. Suddenly they
came to a dead pause, and Miss Letitia whispered
Eliza, that she must wave a handkerchief, and that
something grand would happen in consequence. She

[figure description] Page 065.[end figure description]

perceived that all eyes were turned upon her, in mute
expectation. Merely to get rid of the awkwardness of
this pause, she held up a handkerchief, which she
had received, as part of her recent present, and waved
it. At the signal the three blacks struck two or three
quick blows upon the trees, by which they stood, and
three prodigious trees, the very giants of the forest,
bent in opposite directions, giving two or three sharp
cracks, and then thundered down with a crash, that
was terrific, sweeping whole trees and limbs and every
thing that opposed, from their course, and striking the
earth with a force that made the very earth tremble
under their feet and echoed far through the woods.
The pigeons and parroquets fluttered in clouds from
the scene. The dogs barked. The young men huzzaed,
and there was a general and long waving of
handkerchiefs from the young ladies to correspond.

One of these prodigious fallen trees was a bee-tree,
in which was a large and rich swarm that had
been discovered and reserved for the occasion; and this
tree, and the other two were prepared for the festival,
by being cut so nearly off as only to require a blow
or two to fell them. One of the other trees was a peccan,
covered with nuts, and the other a sycamore,
whose summit was crowned with clusters of the blue
grape. It was a new source of amusement to gather
nuts and grapes, which, but a few moments before, had
been a hundred feet in the air. There was, of course,
a new theatre for wit and mutual gymnastic efforts, on
the part of the lads and lasses, and many were the
feats of springing, reaching, and climbing, on both sides,
and well, and gracefully did the lovers show their
elected their love and daring, in getting for them, at
any effort and any risk, the clusters, or nuts, for which
they expressed an inclination.

When the young ladies had eaten grapes and nuts to
their satisfaction, and had filled their handkerchiefs,
and given them to their attending servants, to carry

[figure description] Page 066.[end figure description]

home, a trial of the gallantry and devotion of their
swains ensued, which, so far from being semblance,
and unreal, was one worthy of the hardihood and daring
of a Sampson. The bee-tree, in falling, had broken
at the point where the swarm had formed their hive.
The little exasperated insects were whizzing by thousands
about the ruin of their habitation and fortunes, and
were denouncing vengeance against those who should
dare to add misery to affliction, by plundering them of
their honey. One young man after another, covering
his head with a handkerchief, walked up to the hollow,
amidst the shouts and bravos of the company, and with
as much adroitness, and as few stings, as might be,
brought off a fragment of the comb, and presented it
with a suitable speech to the young lady of his choice.

Hercules Pindall, to show more devoted love, and
more chivalrous daring, walked deliberately, and with
uncovered face, among the thickest of the bees, and
stooped down and took a full survey of the comb in the
broken hollow, and reached in his hand, and scooped
out the white and virgin circles of comb from the very
centre of the hive, and with his face and hands swollen,
and agonizing with fifty stings, presented his trophy to
Eliza. All this was accompanied with a suitable
speech, the witty part of which bore for burden, that
this external stinging had no relation, nor comparison
to certain smarts and agonies, inflicted by her mischievous
eyes in his bosom. There are few female hearts
of thirteen, I ween, that would not have softened something
from the rigor, imposed by maternal counsels, at
such notable proofs of daring constancy. Eliza pleaded,
that she was too young to love. Hercules, in reply,
was ready to wait her time, so that he might hope at
the end of his probation.

But I willingly pass over this scene. Hercules was
earnest, rough, and direct to his point, and used threats
withal. Eliza was young, and frightened, and trembled
at the thought of committing the grounds and

[figure description] Page 067.[end figure description]

cabin, that sheltered her poor brothers and her mother.
It was a scene most trying to the unpractised child,
from which she only escaped by telling him, that even
if she were of age to love, it would be no way to inspire
it, to threaten ruin to her mother's family, and by
warning him, that if he did not desist, and let her off,
she would call the company. The party broke up,
partaking of the general gloom, created by the visible
ill humor of the chief entertainer, who was evidently
dissatisfied with the progress of his love-making, his
prospects, himself, and every thing. It was late in the
evening, when the carriage was ordered to carry Mrs.
Mason and her daughter home. The narrative of the
incidents of the feast was of course reserved for the following
day.

The first smile, which had been seen in this family,
since the death of its head, was excited in the listening
group, the next morning, as Eliza described, in her
way, the dinner, the nut-gathering, and the gallantry of
Hercules, manifested by the number of stings, and the
amount of swelling. From the little which she related
of what he had said to her, and the answers, which she
had made to him, the state of the case was sufficiently
obvious not only to the keen discernment of the mother,
but even to the inexperienced judgment of George.
They had been for some time aware, that their little
homestead was claimed by different titles, and that,
probably, that of Mr. Pindall was as valid as theirs. A
law suit, at least, was necessary to try their comparative
validity, and this would be as ruinous to them as to
be deprived of their home. The opulent, who are in
suspense about the fate of their ships, after a storm, can
have but a faint idea of the bitterness of apprehension,
with which this family regarded the idea of being turned
out of their humble home. It was their all, and not
the less important to them, because it would have been
nothing to another. Various were the devices proposed,
to soothe the disappointed vanity of the young man,

[figure description] Page 068.[end figure description]

and ward off the vengeance of his father. Thomas ventured
to propose it as his judgment, that Hercules was
a fine, stout, young man, and called by all the people,
the “best” in the settlement of his years, and certainly
the richest. He thought sister might tell him,
that she would wait for him; “And you know,” he significantly
added, “you can make him wait as long as
you will. Then you could be sure of this, and the
great farm, and ride about in the coach, and we should
all be rich and happy.” A kind of musing contemplation
of the matter, in the same point of view, seemed
for a moment to pass over the brow of Mrs. Mason. A
paleness, as of death, and a burst of tears from the
daughter showed the light in which she considered the
most distant prospect of getting rid of their difficulties
in that way. It was settled, that they would deliberate
no further upon the subject until future difficulties called
upon them to act.

CHAPTER V.

[figure description] Page 069.[end figure description]

“Despise not the poor because he is poor.”

Whenever the question of the future course of the
family was in discussion, and whenever the investigation
was followed by gloom and despondency, George
never failed to ply his father's motto, and to dwell upon
his last declaration, that God never forsakes them, who
do not forsake themselves. “They were in health,”
he said, “and in a country where sustenance was easy
to be procured, and if they could only hit upon the
right way, some one might surely be devised, in which
they might become independent of Hercules Pindall,
and every body, and take care of themselves.” The
grand burden of their conversations was to search for
this way.

The inquirer after the secret of perpetual motion,
the chemist inquiring after the transmuting secret, that
will turn lead to gold, the student whipping up his powers
to put the finish to an invention that will bring him
fame and fortune, know but little of the heart-wearing
study of this family, to start in some track, by which
they might obtain sufficient money to clothe the family,
and pay the doctor's bill and the taxes. Destitute as
they were, these bills were presented, and payment
pressed with persevering importunity. In discoursing
every evening upon this theme, Madam Mason, George,
and Eliza were of course the chief speakers, though
Henry, Thomas, and William, often made their speech,
and threw their light upon the subject. These discussions
were pursued with the more earnestness and interest,
inasmuch as the speakers considered themselves
urged to these inquiries by the mournful consideration,
that in so doing they were fulfilling the last wish and
charge of their deceased head. His spirit was

[figure description] Page 070.[end figure description]

considered as one of the number, still pressing the grand maxim
of his life, “never to despond,” and urging them to
task their inventive powers to the utmost to find some
branch of industry, in pursuing which, they might obtain
a decent livelihood. If the reader would not have
felt a smile out of place in this family, he could not have
restrained a smile at hearing some of the propositions
of the junior members of this singular debating society.
Henry proposed the mystery of bird-catching, and sending
cages of mocking-birds, red-birds, parroquets, and
turtle-doves to New-Orleans for sale. Thomas was for
applying their exertions to the gathering reed-canes,
and sending them to the Northern manufacturers for
weavers' sleys. George had high hopes from a chemical
composition for ink and blacking, which he expected
to complete from the vegetables of the country.
Mrs. Mason and Eliza limited their projects to the
tried and simple experiment of raising cotton, and spinning
night and day to clothe themselves, and manufacture
a little surplus for sale. A thousand inconveniences
attended every experiment, as preliminary difficulties.
The proposer was generally overwhelmed by
the objections of the next speaker. One project was
abandoned to find difficulties equally insuperable, appended
to another. Night after night, and week after
week, wore away in the unprofitable speculations of
theory. The debating society generally retired from
the evening fire to their beds, their brain dry and exhausted
by useless reaching for some practicable project,
and their hearts sunk with the discouraging impression,
that nothing was before them but the same
hopeless poverty.

But when their supper of milk, corn-bread, and
sweet potatoes was finished, and they were again assembled
about the evening fire, the repetition of the
ancient maxim, “never despair,” like a voice from
heaven, renewed their courage and strength for a new
discussion. Success, as it ought, ultimately attended

[figure description] Page 071.[end figure description]

these counsels. The post-master, on the bank of the
river, had noticed George, and had inquired into the
circumstances and character of the family. He was a
man, who had both understanding and a heart. He
never, it is true, had proposed to himself to be a Mec
ænas, or to establish a manufacturing village. But if
we could know all the good thoughts that pass in the
minds of humble and undistinguished people, who expect
neither notoriety nor advantage from those thoughts,
we could not but think better of the species and human
nature. While this family was wearying itself in fruitless
attempts to invent some kind of pursuit in which
to employ their industry, he had more than once been
occupied in the benevolent desire to be useful to them.
As a foretaste of good will to them, he was in the habit
of sending George the newspapers and pamphlets, that
came to his office, after he had perused them. These
were beneficial to them in a hundred ways. They
taught the children to read. In an imperfect degree
they supplied the want of books. They learned from
them the events, passions, and employments of the
great world. The thousand projects and discoveries of
manufacturing inventiveness were brought to their view.
They could thus trace the range of other minds in the
same inquiries, which themselves were pursuing with
so much interest. Among other inventions in manufactures,
they noted with keen interest, that the town from
which they had emigrated, had become famous for the
manufacture of a new kind of grass-bonners, in imitation
of Leghorn straw. A premium of fifty dollars had
been obtained by a school-mate of Eliza's, for a bonnet
of this kind, which had sold for thirty dollars beside.
Eighty dollars for a single bonnet, and that made by a
girl neither older, nor more ingenious, than herself! In
fact the whole family, from constantly seeing the manufacture
going on about them, while in New-England,
had become familiar with all the mysteries of cutting,
splitting, bleaching, and platting straw, and with every

[figure description] Page 072.[end figure description]

stage of the operation, from cutting the grain to arranging
the artificial flowers on the finished bonnet.
From a dissertation upon the kind of grass, used in
this manufacture, George was confident, that it was
none other, than the identical crab-grass, which was
such an abundant and troublesome inmate in their corn-field.
So impatient were they all, to satisfy themselves
upon this point, that immediately after reading the article
in question, George and Henry sallied out with a
light, at ten in the evening, to gather some of the crab-grass,
and to satisfy themselves, as to its capabilities for
this manufacture. The article was still unharmed by
the frost, though so late in the season, and Madam Mason
and Eliza found it to succeed, on experiment, beyond
their most sanguine expectations. They retired
to rest, full of cheerful and golden dreams, even Eliza
dreaming, that the children were all clad in new suits
with shoes and stockings, and that she and her mother
were once more fine.

This was a project for immediate and earnest trial.
Sufficient quantities of the grass were collected from
the field. George and the boys concluded to try their
skill upon the coarser manufacture of Vevay straw-hats
for gentlemen, of which some for domestic use were
already made in the settlement. Plenty of the finest
oat-straw for that purpose was readily obtained in the
settlement. In the papers, too, were minute dissertations
upon rearing the silk-worm, and the making of
silk. The woods about them abounded in mulberry-trees,
and there were acres covered with young and
thrifty ones, such as were represented to be in the right
stage, to furnish tender leaves for feeding the silk-worm.
Eggs for rearing the worms were offered gratuitously,
to encourage this species of industry. Behold the
promise of pleasant, practicable, and profitable labor,
both for winter and summer. The adventurer, whose
ticket has obtained the fortunate prize of fifty thousand
dollars may feel more intoxicating enjoyment, in the

[figure description] Page 073.[end figure description]

first raptures of success, but we question if his meditations,
on the whole, are as calm, tranquillizing, salutary,
and enduring, as were the anticipations of this family,
in laying out their plans of future industry and success.

The trials and efforts of Madam Mason and her
daughter were commenced with the morning light, and
scarcely relinquished until midnight. Their slender
fingers were guided by all the skill, derived from practice
in New-England, by way of amusement, and by
having been reared where such operations and pursuits
were familiar, and carried on by every one about them.
It is true, they did not succeed to their minds at once.
But active and ingenious people, who are in earnest,
and determined not to be discouraged, seldom fail in
such efforts, and soon improve upon their first attempts.
As faith in religion can remove mountains, so courage,
patience, industry, and perseverance conquer all
difficulties in practice. The inexperienced manufacturers
made many mistakes, and slow progress at first.
But in the course of the winter, the mother and daughter
had made two grass bonnets, of which the first might
be said to be quite tolerable, and the last even beautiful,
in comparison with Leghorn straws. George and his
brothers, in the same interval, had completed eight gentlemen's
straw hats, which were considered merchantable,
besides one, of a less perfect workmanship and the
fruit of their first essays and experiments, for each one
of their own number. The last half-dozen were wrought
with considerable ingenuity and neatness. In the same
period, they had made considerable preparation for the
manufacture of silk, in which they were favored by
their friend, the postmaster, who not only furnished
them with all his printed information, in relation to this
business, but franked their letters, requesting eggs, and
had the pleasure of learning that their requests were
granted, and the eggs forwarded according to their
desire.

[figure description] Page 074.[end figure description]

March had come again; but the venerated head of
the family would come no more, to enjoy with his dear
family the pleasure of seeing the brooks tufted with the
beautiful blossoms of the meadow-pink, and the woods
rendered gay with the opening flowers of the red-bud.
But these harbingers of spring admonished them, in
compliance with his last wishes, to begin their preparations
for subsistence through the coming year. It was
necessary that the field should be ploughed this season.
The frank deportment and the persevering industry of
George had so far won upon the good feelings of the
planters about them, that two of the richest offered to
send their slaves and teams to plough his field. It was
regarded in the family as a gift from heaven; for they
could not expect a second crop, without ploughing;
neither had they been able to devise any possible means
of hiring it done. It inspired them with new courage,
and was regarded as an omen of future good fortune.

This grand difficulty overcome, it was proposed, that
before planting, George and Henry should carry the
fruits of their winter's industry to the village on the
banks for sale, at the time, when they were advertised
by the papers, that a steam-boat would arrive there from
New-Orleans. It seemed, though they admitted a
slender one, the only chance that offered for a market
for their bonnets and hats. They had made some efforts,
indeed, to sell these articles to some of their more
opulent neighbours. They had even offered the best
bonnet for the ploughing of their field. But such is the
effect of prejudice, that these men found the bonnets
and hats mean and coarse, compared with much meaner
and coarser hats and bonnets bought from the stores.
An impartial eye could have seen at once the superiority
of their articles. But these had been made at home
and under their eye, and without mystery, and by a
destitute family with worn and patched garments and
bare feet. Those that they purchased from the stores,
were far-fetched and dear-bought. So true is it, that

[figure description] Page 075.[end figure description]

manufactures, like prophets, are not like to be honored
in their own country. It is human nature, to undervalue
what grows up under our own eye. Of all this Mrs.
Mason was fully aware. Hero and emperor, as George
was, in her eye, she was aware, that he was an inexperienced
trader; that his market was a most unpromising
one, and she allowed herself to indulge but very slender
hopes from the proposed excursion to the river. But
there was neither shoe nor stocking in the family.
Notwithstanding the mending and patching of decency
and honest pride, their last dress was rapidly verging
to rags. They already hid themselves from their neighbours
as they passed. As the mother made her last
arrangements for the departure of her boys on this
excursion, it was with many prayers and tears. Nevertheless,
the grand maxim of her dear departed husband,
“never to despair,” came to her thoughts, as though it
were his spirit hovering near to cheer them. Her last
and best exertions were made to render them as neat
and decent in their appearance, as circumstances would
admit. But though their clothes were so patched and
seamed, that the original material and the ground color
could be hardly discerned, it was manifest that they
were children of a mother who had been used to decency
and respectable society. After giving them all the
counsels of maternal apprehension and forecast, after
long and laborious dictation, what was to be said and
done, in various supposed cases, she did up the venture
in two bundles in the only two decent handkerchiefs
remaining in the family, the larger to be borne by
George, and the smaller by Henry; she kissed them both,
suppressed her starting tears, and trusting the return
purchases, if they made sales, entirely to the judgment
of George, and his knowledge of what they needed
most, she sent them forth. An India merchant, who fits
out a ship carrying specie to China, knows nothing of
the anxious solicitudes of this mother in the case. The
poor widow, who sends her only son on a voyage, and

[figure description] Page 076.[end figure description]

raises her last dollar to fix him out with an adventure,
can understand the case better.

The younger boys and Eliza were in high spirits, and
tripped along with them to the steps that led out of the
field. She gave them many counsels in relation to the
pretty articles, which she wished them to bring back. At
the steps she kissed them, shook hands with them, and
again and again wished them a good voyage, which was
earnestly echoed by the younger ones, and they set
forth alone.

I know not how the reader feels, but I feel as much
interest in the march of these barefooted boys along the
deep forest, as I do in reading about the adevntures
and ridiculous distresses of fine dressed lords and ladies.
Of all stupid things in our world, it is the most stupid,
as we have before remarked, that the great mass of
readers should have thought, that there was no dignity
nor interest in any adventures, but those of men that
have fine houses and coaches. There are only a few
hundreds of the former in our whole country. There
are a million who can claim the alliance of kindred
fortune with George and Henry. The movements of
human nature are just as strong in them, and if we
would study them, would be found possessing as high
an interest as those of the former.

It was a beautiful March morning when they started, and
the swelling buds of the Spice-Wood filled the air with
aromatic fragrance. Wherever they crossed a run with a
southern exposure, they saw the delicious meadow-pink
and the red-bud in flower. The beauty of the day, that inexplicable
spirit of freshness and joy to the whole creation,
which spring diffuses over earth and through air, and with
which it fills every thing that has life with gaiety and
songs; the alcove of branches in the grand forest through
which they passed, just beginning to be tinged with
countless points of green; every thing on their way was
of a freshness to cheer every thing but despair. They,
too, were full of the freshness and buoyancy of youthful

[figure description] Page 077.[end figure description]

existence, and the sweet illusions of hope were diffused
over their minds. They walked almost with a bound.
They whistled, and sung, as an echo to the songs of the
forest, and for the first six miles of their way, no doubts
or fears had mingled with their expectations. But we
all of us from four to fourscore are creatures of the
elements; our joys and our sorrows, the fabric of a
passing remembrance, a floating cloud, a change in the
temperature; and the sunshine of the mind vanishes
with that of the sky. Before they reached the river,
the sun rode high, and the day was sultry. They had
become weary, and the excess of morning gaiety and
hope was gone. For a couple of hours they had lived
too fast, and the revulsion of discouragement followed.
Whoever had met them at that time, would have noted
in their weary and listless step, and their dejected countenances,
that their sanguine anticipations were gone.
Henry began very frankly to confess his doubts and discouragements.
George in heart was as much discouraged,
as his brother; but he had practically and thorougly
learned the hard lesson of putting a good face upon a
hopeless project. So he put himself, to his utmost ingenuity,
to prove to his brother, that nobody could ever
hope to succeed in any project with a sad countenance,
and a discouraged look. “If we do not look cheerful and
full of hope, when we arrive,” said he, “that alone would
spoil our market. If I were going to the gallows, I
would strive to put a good face upon it.” He then exerted
his utmost ingenuity to prove to his brother, that
they actually would do well. Children are easy to convince,
especially when they wish to be convinced.
While they rested a few moments, he entreated his
brother to look cheerful, and by making such efforts
with him actually became so himself. More of the
secret of success in life lies in this thing, than many
readers imagine.

They arose, resuming their morning faces, and marched
on, whistling and singing, until they arrived at the

[figure description] Page 078.[end figure description]

river. The steam-boat had just fired its cannon, and
swept to the bank in all the pageantry of display, as
they arrived. It may be imagined, what an imposing
spectacle it presented to boys, who for so many months
had seen nothing but log-cabins and trees. Hundreds
of waggish boat-men were raising the wind on the deck,
and seventy-five or eighty gaily dressed cabin-passengers
sprang ashore, as soon as the plank was put out.
A trading-boat was moored a few rods above them.
George considered this a good omen. The people on
those boats are known to be traders and traffickers, who
deal in every thing. Besides, it was to remain there
two days, whereas the steam-boat was only to take in
wood and a few passengers, and would depart in a couple
of hours; of course the first trading essay of the
two boys would be made upon the steam-boot. It will
be seen that it was but an unpromising business for two
ragged boys to carry such articles, as hats and bonnets
for sale on board such a steam-boat, returning from New-Orleans,
crowded with passengers, some of them dandies,
some of them belles, many of them empty, heartless,
and unfeeling, most of them in a careless, tooth-pick
frame, and scarcely one of them disposed to offer
a fair chance to the intended speculation of the boys.
True, they were boys with fine faces, and keen observers
might easily have noted, that they were not common
boys. But who of the card-playing people, and the
vain women on board the steam-boat, yawning with ennui,
and greedy only for some kind of heartless distraction,
would inspect them close enough to look beyond
their first appearance and their rags? Besides, all
that could be supposed capable of such a purchase,
had been to the great mart of finery, New-Orleans, and
would little think of supplying themselves with any
thing they had overlooked there, in such a place as this.
All these thoughts were sufficiently obvious even to the
inexperience of George. His heart palpitated. His
mouth was dry, and as he gave his hand to his brother

[figure description] Page 079.[end figure description]

Henry, to lead him along the plank on board the boat,
his very hand was covered with a cold sweat. Never
had the poor lad more urgent occasion for his motto,
“Don't give up the ship.” He assumed the courage
of desperation, and walked up to a tall gentleman with
an air of patronage and authority, who seemed to be a
kind of chief gallant among the ladies. “Will you please
to have any of our hats and bonnets, sir?” said he.

The gentleman answered carelessly, but kindly,
“My boys, I have no need of either.” But, as if struck
with the singularity of the offer of such articles in such
a place; “let us look at them though,” he continued;
“what kind of hats and bonnets do you make here?”
To have a chance to display his articles was an unexpected
advantage, and no small point gained. So he
very modestly undid his handkerchiefs, and spread his
hats and bonnets before the gentleman. It is more
than probable, that he had made the proposition to the
boys merely to bring about a conversation with the ladies.
“Come, and look, ladies,” said he. “Why, they are fine.
Upon my word, if we have not come all the way from
New-Orleans to a bonnet-market at the Iron Banks!
Who made these articles?” he continued, handling them
rather rudely. “My mother, and myself,” answered
George, firmly. “Please not to rumple them, sir.”

By this time a circle was formed round the boys and
their articles. Any person, who has witnessed such a
scene, knows how little feeling there is in such cases.
Some of the ladies showed their wit, by laughing at the
bonnets. Another took one of them up and ran to the
mirror, screwing it sidewise on ther head, and giving
herself a great many pretty airs in this ridiculous position,
well pleased to have gained the general laugh of
the gentlemen. George felt every ill-natured remark
upon his hats and bonnets, as he would have felt an
insult upon his mother, and every rude pull upon his
bonnets, as though it were upon his heart-strings. His
temper,—for he was a high-spirited boy,—was fifty times

[figure description] Page 080.[end figure description]

ready to burst forth. But he saw, that all depended
upon self-possession. So he swallowed his words, and
attempted to conceal the palpitations of his heart, as they
agitated his tattered jacket, and bade himself be calm.
Some tumbled over his hats, remarking, that they showed
an astonishing ingenuity, and began to ask questions
about a family, that could originate such manufactures
in such a place. To all these questions George and
even Henry had such modest, prompt, and proper answers,
that persons of much thought and feeling would
naturally have been aroused to an interest in them.
But, unfortunately, there is little of the kind to be expected
in such circumstances. In such places they
generally prefer to show their own wit and talent at
ridicule, rather than exercise consideration and benevolence
to little paupers like these. There was, in particular,
a forward young lady with a fine complexion, who
was pretty, conceited, and vain, the belle and the wit of
her village, when at home, and she had been a third-rate
blue-stocking even at New-Orleans; she was, moreover,
wealthy and dressed as fine as colors, ribbands, and
lace could make her. She made such ridiculous efforts
to squeeze the handsomest bonnet over her huge combs
upon her head, as made Henry cry out in terror, “that
she would spoil the bonnet.” A lady of more character
and consideration saw, and pitied the distress of the
boy, and begged her, if she did not wish to purchase it,
at least to return it without injury. This polite and
proper rebuke piqued her, nor was it the first time she
had been piqued with this lady of superior understanding,
during this trip. She returned the bonnet to George,
comparing it with her own Leghorn, however, as she
returned it. Her own was certainly a meaner bonnet,
though dizzened with ornaments and artificial flowers.
“You see, my boy,” said she, holding her own beside his,
“that I should hardly want to buy such a thing, as this.
Still, as you seem to be poor, I will give you half a dollar.”
At the same time she offered him one from her

[figure description] Page 081.[end figure description]

splendid purse. Half dollars had been rare visitants
with George, and he thought how much it would purchase
for his mother. A glow passed over his cheek.
He knew not, whether the feeling were pride, resentment,
or proper spirit. He was not casuist enough to
decide in a moment, whether he ought or ought not to
refuse the money. But he answered promptly, “Thank
you, ma'am; I should be glad to sell, but I did not come
to beg. As you do'nt find my bonnets worth buying, I
will go.” An answer so proper from a boy so young
and so dressed, produced an instant and unexpected
impression. It did the business for George. It aroused
attention, and created instant sympathy. The considerate
lady, who had spoken before, whispered a person
who seemed to be her brother, and a momentary consultation
ensued between them, and the gentlemen
and ladies in general. The gentleman came forward,
and asked George the price of his bonnets and his hats.
“Six dollars for the one, four for the other, and seventy-five
cents for each of the hats;” was the answer.
The gentleman remarked, as one who was a judge, that
the best bonnet was a fine one, and ought to sell for
more than the price asked. He proposed to buy it, and
dispose of it in a lottery, to which there was an assent
by general acclamation. He paid George six dollars,
and took the bonnet. I dare affirm, that receiving these
six dollars made him happier than Napoleon was, when,
amidst all the splendors of Paris, and the acclamations
of marshals and nobles and conquered kings, he put on
the imperial crown. The example was contagious.
All at once it was discovered, that the hats were light
and fine for the approaching summer. The story of the
cleverness of the poor boys ran through the crowd.
Strong feeling, excited in their favour, gave them credit
for even more than they possessed. In a few minutes
George had sold five of his hats.

Delighted beyond measure, he skipped up the ladder
among the hundreds, who were crowded on the

[figure description] Page 082.[end figure description]

deck. There was no hope for the sale of the remaining
grass-bonnet among the plain and hardy fellows
there. But no one laughed at him for being ragged,
and he sold another of his straw hats. The bell rung
for all on shore to come on board, and all on board,
that did not belong there, to be off. The cannon fired,
and George was admonished, that the steam-boat was
getting under way. He carefully led his brother Henry
ashore, and with feelings very different from those
with which he came on board. He had in hand ten
dollars and a half, and to him it was the treasure of the
Indies. The boys were now in a frame of mind to be
delighted with seeing the gay steam-boat, with her colors
raised and her pennons flying, moving majestically
round, as the wheels began to throw up the foam, and
as she began to take her strong march against the current
of the mighty stream.

There still remained one bonnet and two hats. The
boys had now acquired confidence from success, and
they walked up the stream a few paces, to where the
trading-boat was moored. The two partners, who managed
it, probably took them to be boys bringing eggs
on board for sale. One of them held out his hand, to
lead them aboard.

“What do you ask for your eggs?” was the question.

“We have none to sell,” answered George, “but an
imitation Leghorn bonnet, and a couple of gentlemen's
straw hats.”

The traders were shrewd fellows from Connecticut,
whose business on the river, as they phrased it with
the true northern accent, was “trading and trafficking,”
and to whom no article of barter came amiss. Like
the people in the steam-boat, their curiosity was excited
by having such articles offered there, in a region,
where they had been accustomed to suppose nothing
was manufactured. These knowing traders examined
the articles with seeming carelessness, but they

[figure description] Page 083.[end figure description]

comprehended the character and circumstances of the boys
in a moment, learned that they were Yankess, and
perceived, that they offered their articles cheap. They
ascertained, too, at once, that they had money, which
they wished to expend in purchases. Such an opportunity
to “trade and traffic” was not to be lost.

The sight of so many goods, arranged for show and
effect, and with many a gaudy article on the external
part of the shelves, to strike the eye, could not fail to
arrest the admiration of the boys from the woods.
Henry held up his hands, exclaiming, “Oh! brother,
brother, what would I give to carry home some of
these fine things to mother and the children. Dear
George, you must buy some of these things for them.”

After a little pretended difficulty about the price, the
traders purchased the remaining bonnet and hats. But
it was part of the contract, that the boys were to receive
their pay in goods, and moreover, to expend
their money in purchases there, they engaging to furnish
every article as cheap as could be bought at the
stores. Sorry I am to say, that George, with all his
natural cleverness and quickness, had better thrown his
articles into the river, than have dealt with one of these
traders. But one of the traders was endowed with a
heart and a conscience, strange as it may seem, in his
case. The artless story of the boys had moved his
pity and his feelings. He was determined, that no advantage
should be taken of their youth and inexperience.
He called his partner aside, and told him as
much. The younger of the traders remonstrated, but
being the inferior partner, was oblighed to yield, while
the elder dealt with them. The whole amount of the
purchase was to be sixteen dollars. The trader made
many considerate and kind inquiries with a sincere
view to inform himself, what they most needed at home.
It was a business of extreme perplexity with George,
to decide between conflicting claims in their purchases.
He went on shore with Henry to consult with him on

[figure description] Page 084.[end figure description]

points, that pride forbade him to mention before the
traders. After all, it would have occupied all the day,
to fix on the specific articles to purchase, had it not
been necessary, that he should decide in season to return
home that night. The important selections at
length, after much doubt and solicitude, and aided by
the honest and more decided judgment of the trader,
were made. They consisted of patterns for a chintz
dress for the mother and daughter, a pair of shoes for
each, and patterns for a domestic cotton dress for each
of the children beside. Two dollars, that remained,
were bestowed in coffee and sugar, luxuries that had
not been tasted in the family, since the first month
after their arrival in the country. The trader had not
only given them the full value of their money and articles,
but had generously allowed them more, and in
the noble spirit of saving their feelings, and wishing
them to receive it, not as a gift, but as a purchase.
The whole amount, when done up in a bundle, was no
inconsiderable package, and constituted a burden too
heavy for their strength and the distance they had to
travel that night. Fortunately a neighbour from the
settlement was in at the river, carrying out a load of
articles in his horse-wagon to the settlement. He offered
to take their package, and even themselves back
again. But as his wagon was heavily loaded, and inconvenient,
and uncomfortable, as a vehicle, they thankfuly
accepted the offer for the transport of their package,
preferring themselves to return on foot, as they
came.

This matter arranged, away marched the boys for
home, with hearts as light as a feather. It was cheering
to hear their young voices echoing in songs through
the woods, as they walked briskly onward. The still
dusk of a March sunset overtook them, before they
reached home. It happened in this case, as it always
happens, that too high a flood of joy is succeeded in
the mind by an ebb of sadness. The solemn sensations

[figure description] Page 085.[end figure description]

of decaying light in the forests, weariness and the reaction
of feelings, that had been too highly excited, drew
from Henry, with a long sigh, as they rested for a moment,
this remark:

“Dear George, it takes away all my gladness in carrying
our fine things home, to think that my poor, dear
father is gone, never to come back. Oh! I would
give all this world that he were only alive, and well;
what we have got would render him so happy! Oh!
how glad he would be to see that we are able to make
ourselves comfortable and take care of ourselves! I
shall never see him more, and I care nothing about all
we have bought.”

As this thought came over him, in all its bitterness,
his surcharged heart found vent to its feelings in a burst
of weeping. George was not a little proud of his reputation
for philosophy, but he had been brooding in his
mind over the same gloomy train of remembrance, and
this ill-timed remark of his brother, the echo of his own
thoughts, so nearly vanquished him, that he was obliged
to turn away to conceal the tears, that were forming in
his own eyes. While they were thus crying in company,
their neighbour's wagon came up with them.
His company, and the view of their package introduced
a new train of thought. They were still two miles
from home, and as the wagon parted from their path
there, and took another direction, it become necessary,
that they should take their package themselves.
It was heavy; but it was a precious burden,
and they wiped their eyes, as George thanked the
neighbour, and bent his neck to it. As he became
weary under his proud burden, Henry shouldered it,
and staggered on a quarter of a mile, when George resumed
it. In this way, they arrived in view of the
house. Twilight was just fading. The wooden shutters
were not closed, and a bright light gleamed from
the house. The sweet and subdued voice of the mother
and daughter was heard within, singing the evening

[figure description] Page 086.[end figure description]

hymn. They distinctly heard the burden of the closing
stanza,
“Oh, guide the dear ones safely home.” The family dog received them with his caresses at the
door. The two boys threw down their package, as
they entered, and rushing to the arms of their mother,
made no effort to restrain tears of joy. They both sobbed
together, “Father, dear father, if you were only
here!” But the happy tears, and kisses, and embraces,
that ensued, were only those of tenderness and joy.
They all agreed, that if his spirit could be among them,
it would only be to chide them for any other feelings,
than those of gladness on this occasion.

And now, after a half an hour spent in this way,
came on, of course, the happy business of unrolling the
goods and displaying the individual character of their
purchases. My reader may have seen a lady in her
birth-night ball-dress. He may have seen a dandy
sport a suit of clothes in an entire new fashion. He
may have imagined high degrees of gratified pride and
joy on occasions, which he has seen, or of which he
may have read. But I question, if he has ever seen,
or read of a more real, heart-felt, and honest exultation
and joy, than that of this family. Ah! my dear reader,
I hope you do not know by experience, as these poor
people did, that it is bitter privation, that teaches us the
value of things; that it is poverty which instructs us to
be content, and glad, with a little. Who can tell the
gladness of heart of this mother and daughter, that they
should be once more decently clad, and in a garb to
be seen! The two boys were exulting proudly in
their own wisdom, cleverness, and management, and as
a spice of evil mixes with all our good, I much fear,
there was in their hearts a dawning feeling, like
that of the exulting monarch, who said, “Is not this
great Babylon, which I have built?” Add to this
the gratified pride of the mother, in seeing this proof of
the premature industry and capacity of her children;

[figure description] Page 087.[end figure description]

and in witnessing the fulfilment of her departed husband's
prediction, “that God would never forsake them,
if they did not forsake themselves.” One of the most
insupportable burdens of extreme poverty was not
only thrown off, but a prospect opened of a constant
remedy of the same kind for the future. It is not
necessary, that the parties should be kings, or rulers, or
rich, or distinguished, to be capable of all the joy and
all the sorrow, which our nature is susceptible of experiencing.
I dare affirm, that this family, for the first
hour of unrolling these articles, and examining their excellence,
and exclaiming, as well they might, at their
cheapness, and making their arrangements for the share
which each one of the family should have of them, and
in the anticipated joy of the smartness of their appearance
in their new dress, and listening to the story of
the sales and purchases, was one of the happiest for the
time that existed in our world.

Mrs. Mason, too, had, like her two sons, her painful
revulsion, after the first burst of joy. She remembered
the eye that used to kindle with such intense affection
at seeing the happiness of his family. She remembered
him on whose bosom she had divided her joys and sorrows.
She remembered his satisfied look, as he saw
his children happily seated round the evening fire.
She felt, too, how happy this evening would have made
him. It was in vain, that she said to herself, that his
ashes only remained with them, under the sycamore,
and that his spirit was in heaven, and infinitely above
such poor and trifling joys. She was after all but a
frail being of flesh; and unavailing longing for his loved
society, to share the happiness of that evening, brought
bitterness in the midst of her joy. “Some natural tears
she dropp'd, but wip'd them soon.” Coffee was prepared,
the first they had tasted for a year, and the exhilirating
beverage had a relish which they cannot
know, to whom it is a daily repast.

To make the dresses was the work of the mother

[figure description] Page 088.[end figure description]

and daughter. Privation rendered this labor, which in
so many instances is considered a painful toil, a delightful
pastime. The boys, the while, were in the field,
busily engaged in planting, and delighted, on their return
from labor, to watch the progress of the important
operations within. They within, too, often came out to
observe how the labors of the field succeeded. During
this inspection, we see George in the honest pride of
head workman and overseer in this important business,
directing Henry to straighten the rows, and Thomas
to take some kernels from the hill, or add them, as he
saw the case require. These subalterns, too, had a
pride, in manifesting under the eye of their mother,
the promptness of their obedience.

The imagination of the reader may easily supply the
details of a considerable interval of time that ensued,
marked with no incident but the rejoicings of the succeeding
Sabbath, in which the family performed their
customary Sabbath solemnities, in an entire new dress
from head to foot. This was a silent joy, and a pride
inly felt; for each member of the family knew too well
the claims of self-respect, to exult externally in the display
of their finery. We should have mentioned, that
since the death of Mr. Mason, Sabbath had been in
this family, as nearly a day of the same kind of worship
as while he lived, as the case would admit. It
was in vain, that their neighbours strolled by with their
dogs and guns, and invited the boys to share with them
the pleasure and the profits of the chase. It was in
vain that even the women came past the house with
their angling rods to fish in the neighbouring creek.
The day had always been in that family consecrated to
pursuits worthy of the hopes of immortality, and these
duties, so far from being remitted after the head was
gone, were more exactly performed. The house was
that day a Sabbath-school, a place of worship, a house
of instruction in singing, and in training to all the high
thoughts and holy feelings of religion. Neither was it

[figure description] Page 089.[end figure description]

a day of gloom. It had long been inculcated on this
family, as one of the first duties of the Sabbath to strive
in every way to render it a pleasant and a cheerful day
to the children. Prayers were recited, select portions
of the Scriptures read, questions propounded, and
every duty seasoned with an air of cheerfulness and joy.
The day never passed away without an affectionate remembrance
of him, whose body mouldered, indeed,
under the sycamore near them; but whose spirit, the
mother told them, was, probably, permitted that day to
descend from heaven, and to be invisibly present with
them.

The field was planted, and the corn waved in its
beauty. The showers descended, and they were again
cheered with the prospects of an ample harvest. The
materials for the labors of the winter were prepared, as
they were matured for gathering. It was a delightful
employment to tend their silk-worms. For this season
they calculated upon little more, than an experiment.
But they contemplated with untiring eagerness and unsated
pleasure the manifestations of the astonishing wisdom
and contrivance of Providence in the labors of
these humble animals. They admired the beauty of the
little silken world, in which they enclosed themselves,
and saw, in the increase of their stock, and the extension
of their labors another year, the promise not only
of pleasant employment, but of adding to their means
of support. There was certainly with them every conceivable
motive to industry. One of their most important
arrangements was, after the evening service, to settle
the business of the succeeding day, and parcel out
the amount of time, that should be appropriated to each
duty. This appreciation of time, this wise and settled
distribution of it beforehand, redeems half a life. By
rising an hour earlier than other people, and by drawing
on the evening for an hour later, and by saving two
hours every day, by having all the employments of the
day, and the length of time to be devoted to each,

[figure description] Page 090.[end figure description]

settled beforehand, four hours every day were gained upon
their most industrious neighbours.

Yet, with their utmost industry, the evils of poverty
pressed hard upon them. Their sugar and coffee were
soon expended, and the privation rendered more bitter
by the inclination for it having been rekindled, and the
habit renewed by this transient indulgence. A single
dress for each of them only rendered the want of
a change more striking and painful. The doctor's bill
and the tax bill were presented anew with a sneering
remark, that “people ought to pay their debts before
they made themselves fine.” There were a hundred
other things to which they, stinted as their means had
been, had been formerly used, which were necessary to
common comfort, and the want of which was felt to be
sufficiently galling. But poor people, that have religion
and good sense, learn to bear many evils, and to
endure the want of many things, without envy or repining.
The mother nightly inculcated upon them,
that it was not only making themselves miserable, but
wicked, to fret, and murmur, because others had means
and comforts which they had not, or to harbour angry
and revengeful feelings towards even those who despised
them on account of their poverty.

The spring and the summer passed away calmly, and
without other incidents than those, every where brought
about by the silent march of time. The sun, the moon,
and stars kept their hours of rising and rest. Their
days sped in noiseless privacy, in these calm and innocent
employments. Every day added to the strength
of the children and developed the energy, firmness, and
forecast of George. Their amount of silk was laid by
for future winding. An abundant supply of the article
for the manufacture of the coming winter was provided.
At this period of hope and cheerful anticipation, a
catastrophe befel them of which they had been fore-warned,
but which yet fell upon them like a thunder-stroke.
They had been told, that they must expect

[figure description] Page 091.[end figure description]

the sickness of acclimation, called “seasoning,” in the
phrase of the country. They had been too busy, too
much occupied, and too deep in schemes of the future,
to think of sickness, until it came.

The corn had just begun to whiten on the ears, and
the intense heats of summer to soften into the milder
temperature of autumn, when, at ten in the morning,
Mrs. Mason felt a chill, which compelled her to take
to her bed. Her lips and her hands had the customary
livid appearance. She had hardly lain down, before
the three younger children came in from the field, all
attacked in the same way. The little discouraged tremblers
bestowed themselves on their beds. The spasms
of the chill in each were most severe. From Madam
Mason to her youngest child, their teeth chattered, and
a kind of low, mourning neise accompanied such violent
and spasmodic shaking, as made the cabin tremble, and
their few earthern plates on the shelf, beside their beds,
were heard to clatter with the united shudderings.
Each one was under the influence of a delirious excitement,
like that of opium, and the cry of “drink! drink!”
was, uttered with the eager earnestness of a traveller,
expiring with thirst, on the parched sands of a desert.
In their wild conversations, it was affecting to hear the
younger children call upon their father, in such a variety
of tone and supplication, as would have moved a
heart of stone. A couple of hours passed in this way,
when they dozed for a few moments, and then aroused
with cheeks crimson with fever, and another kind of
delirium, attended with new tones and accents of distress.
Eliza and George were continually carrying the
water-gourds, first to one, and then to the other. The
patients seized the vessel with a convulsive grasp, and
held to it so long, that one would have thought they would
have suffocated by the eagerness and duration of their
drinking. This paroxysm endured something longer
than the former, and when this passed, a few moments
of agony succeeded; when the sweat began to start,

[figure description] Page 092.[end figure description]

slowly at first, and without much sensation of relief.
But soon it burst from every pore, and dropped from
each particular tress of hair, as though their solid flesh
would “resolve into a dew.” This immediately
brought calmness and relief, and a delightful languor,
which they only know, who have felt it, attended by
such soothing and tranquillizing sensations, as we may
suppose to belong to the spirit of the just, after the last
struggles of escape from the prison of the flesh. But
though relieved, they were so weak, as to be unable to
rise from their beds. A thick fog rose above the tops
of the trees, and the sun went down in utter and Egyptian
darkness. What a night for this family, of which
two only of the children could walk from bed to bed of
the sick! Eliza was, as might be expected from
her age and sex, subdued and pale as death.
George felt that the grand trial of his fortitude was
come. He repeated his grand maxim, as he kindled
the evening light; told them in the common proverb,
“that the darkest time in the night was just before
morning;” talked with calmness of this sickness, as the
common course of things in the country; and remarked,
that though distressing to endure, they ought all to
be thankful, that it was by no means a dangerous disorder,
and prophesied with deep apparent conviction,
that not only would they all be shortly well from this
“seasoning,” but find it to be the harbinger of good
fortune again.

Still he was aware, that in such violent attacks,
something must be done, to arrest the fury of the disorder.
He consulted none but his sister. He made
every considerable arrangement, within the limits of
their slender means, to meet the renewal of the paroxysm,
which, he was aware, the patients must expect again
on the morrow; and he was away before the dawn in
the morning on the road to the river for the doctor.
There was now no brother Henry to accompany him,
whose prattle might serve to beguile him on the

[figure description] Page 093.[end figure description]

way. The day was sultry, and the subject of his meditations
dreary and full of gloom. We need not imagine,
what he thought and felt. Courage and affection
achieve miracles. He reached the river early in the
day. The doctor could not accompany him back, but
promised, as is customary in that climate, and at that
season, to avoid heat and flies, and to save time, that
he would start for the sick family at midnight. George
was on his return by half after ten in the morning. He
had already measured half his distance home, when he
felt himself suddonly seized with a chill. So violent
was the attack, that after walking two or three minutes
under its endurance, he was obliged to stop and sit
down. Fortunately the disease had arrested him on
the bank of a rivulet and at the ford. He crawled on
his hands and knees through the mud, and reclining
over the water, drank as long as he could hold his
breath. A momentary relief flashed an impulse of
courage through his frame, that he should be able to
resume his journey. He waded through the ford, and
staggered on a few steps. All would not do. Every
thing flashed before his eyes, in long and flaky streams
of green and yellow light, succeeded by darkness. His
head swam, and thick pantings oppressed his bosom.
The poor fellow fell, but fortunately on the moss at the
foot of a sycamore. It was some minutes before he
returned to himself; and as he felt as he had never
felt before, and perceived that he was covered with a
cold and clammy sweat, his first thought was, that the
hand of death was upon him. Even then, the noble
lad thought only of the poor sufferers at home, looking
in vain through the evening and the night for his return.
It was long before he could gather strength to repeat
his adage, and resume his courage. He settled himself
as comfortably as he could, on the moss, and in a position
as convenient as might be to crawl to the stream.
It was a thought sufficiently gloomy, it must be admitted,
for such a lad to contemplate his probable chance

[figure description] Page 094.[end figure description]

of expiring there in the woods, unattended and alone,
and, perhaps, be devoured by panthers, or wolves, even
before the death of nature had taken place; and leave
the sufferers at home entirely forlorn. But he said,
“Our Father, who art in heaven!” and he prayed first
for those at home, and then for himself, and laid himself
down to await the disposal of Providence. His
paroxysm was increased by his fatigue, and the want of
a bed, and the comforts, which even his home would
have afforded. He was afflicted with partial delirium
and devouring thirst. Once more he fainted in
his efforts to crawl up the bank, after drinking. It
seemed to him, indeed, on regaining his couch of moss,
that he must expire in the woods. Such was his situation,
as the dark night came upon him, and the distant
howl of the wolves rung in his ear. In the midst of his
thoughts within him, it occurred to him, that at one in
the night the doctor would pass that way, and that, by
that time, his fever would be so far abated, as that he
might be able to ride home behind him. But then it
would be necessary, that he should remain awake, or
the doctor would pass him ignorant that he was
there. The sweat soon began to flow, and he was
easy, languid, and his eyes so heavy, that sleep seemed
irresistibly to weigh upon his eye-lids. He attempted
a hundred expedients to keep himself awake. An invincible
drowsiness pressed upon him, and nature levied
her tribute. He fell into a profound sleep. The
angels of God not only guarded this pale and exhausted
lad from the wolves, but inspired pleasant dreams into
his innocent bosom. He fancied that he had just arrived
home. His mother and the children were recovered,
and were about him with kisses and caresses.
Water seemed to be handed to him, and in his eagerness
to grasp the gourd, and bring it to his lips, he
awoke himself from his dream, just as he heard the distant
trampling of the doctor approaching on horseback.

It might have startled another, to have been thus

[figure description] Page 095.[end figure description]

called upon, as he passed, by a feeble human voice, imploring
aid at that hour and in that place. But the doctor
was a man of temperament, such as not to find miracles
in incidents wide from the common, and when he
learned the state of the case, it was nothing strange to
him, to find a sick lad on the way, who had just passed
the paroxysm of the ague. He made some difficulty
about taking him up behind him, remarking, that he
seemed very comfortably situated there, and that he
could notify his mother, to have him sent for in the
morning. Poor George had to exert himself to the utmost
to be taken up. But he succeeded at length, and
was carried home.

Eliza of course had found it necessary to instruct her
mother, as the fever returned upon the family in the
morning, what was become of George. I need
not say how they endured their severe fever that day,
or what they thought, when they found, that George
did not return at night. When he did return, he found,
that Eliza, towards night, had been attacked in her
turn, and that the family had suffered inexpressibly for
water. But they were still alive, and the sight of him
and the doctor revived their spirits. The doctor prescribed
as he thought the case required, and I am sorry
to add, that it appeared to him, to call for cheap medicines.
He was one of those physicians who make most
exertions for those who pay best. Physicians, generally,
are kind men, and there are few, who would have
left a helpless family in the woods, with the nearest
neighbour distant two miles, and each member so sick,
as to be unable to go to the spring and bring a gourd of
water for the rest, without having attempted an arrangement,
to procure some one to nurse them. But
this doctor had a thick head and an unfeeling heart.
He daily saw much misery and sickness of the same
sort, and he thought very little upon the scene before
him, except, that it afforded him little immediate prospect
of a bill. He thought in this case, I rather

[figure description] Page 096.[end figure description]

imagine, if he thought at all upon the subject, that men were
made to be sick, take pills, and pay the doctor; and
as this family could not do the last, he felt it right to
hurry away to the care of some patients who could. Be
that as it may, he left the family, in which no one was
able to walk to the spring, to shift for themselves. They
had all taken medicine, and this had produced an exacerbation
of the morning attack. It was distressing to
hear their groans during the paroxysm, and their incessant
cries for drink. However Mrs. Mason and George
might be able to sustain the agony of thirst in silence,
it was an effort of self-restraint not to be expected of
the rest.

For aught that appears, they might all have expired
together, without any relief, had not Providence in its
own merciful way, sent them aid. Their nearest
neighbour had an old slave, Pompey by name, who was
a methodist professor of religion, who was really and in
good earnest religious, not from stubbornness, or laziness,
as masters are apt to charge their slaves with being, when
they pretend to that thing. Pompey had been on an errand
to the river, and had returned that way. Hearing
the groans within, he was induced to stop, and enter
the cabin. What a scene was before him! There was
none to bring them water to quench their burning thirst.
His kind heart was affected. He repaired to the
spring, and returned with a couple of gourds full of
water. He gave them drink. He opened the shutters
to ventilate the room. He cut green boughs, and
put in the windows, to keep out the sun, and admit the
coolness of the air. He grated the tender corn of the
half ripe ears, and made them gruel. He made their
beds, and aided them to change from the one to the
other, while he did it. In short, he did every thing,
which a diligent and affectionate nurse could do, with
the means of the house, and then he fell on his knees
beside their bed, and prayed with them. Nor was his
prayer less effectual in the divine ear, or less cheering

[figure description] Page 097.[end figure description]

and consoling to the patients, because it was uttered in
the broken accents of an African dialect. He then sat
by them, and talked to them in his good-natured and
affectionate way, bidding them take courage, and promising
them, that he would hurry home, and ask leave of
his master to return and watch with them. And as he
was old, and as he said, of little account in the field, he
had no doubt, that his master would allow him to come
back, and stay with them. He added, “Me cure
heap people of the ague. Me know six times more
about him than the doctor. Me come and cure you
all.”

A solemn conversation between the mother and these
children on their beds ensued. The two younger children
were wild with the delirium of fever. Henry,
Eliza, and the mother were in utter despondency, and
certainly few prospects on the earth can be imagined
more gloomy than theirs. The only article in the cabin
for sustenance was corn-meal, and the alternative before
them seemed only that of perishing of sickness, or
hunger. George, though the sickest of the whole, held
fast to his grand maxim. He declared an undoubting
confidence, that things would yet go well with them.
He called them to consider, how mercifully God had
dealt with them in many respects already. From
their rich experience of the Divine mercy, in time past,
he called them to take courage for all the future.
None, but people so situated, know what invigorating
refreshment arises, to cheer despondency, and banish
despair, from one such firm and undoubting prophet of
good.

In due time Pompey came. The kind-hearted and
considerate slave had looked deeply into their condition,
and had fully espied the nakedness of the land.
From the stores of his fellow-servants he had brought a
little sugar and tea. Of his master he had begged
powder and shot. He killed squirrels and partridges in
an hour's hunt. With these and grated corn he

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prepared a nutritive and rich soup. He then went along
the run, and gathered Eupatorium Perfoliatum, or
Thorough Wort. He gave each one a cup of the infusion
of those leaves, a grand remedy among the
the slaves in such cases, and perhaps the best that can
be given. The medicine operated at once powerfully,
and gently, and when the fever, and the effect of the
medicine were passed, a devouring appetite returned to
them. Nothing could be more restorative than the
soup which Pompey had prepared for them. At nine
he made tea. Their fear and dejection were dispelled,
as by a charm, and the kind black fellow was in the
midst of them, a sort of ministering angel, and enjoying
their thankfulness and their hopes, with all the sympathy
of his affectionate nature. He prayed with them
again in the earnest language of thanksgiving and praise,
and he sung his own wild hymns, as a part of the worship.
Nor did he take his sleep on his blanket beside
them on the floor, until he had ascertained, that each
one of his patients was asleep.

Next day, it is true, their fever returned, but with
symptoms of abated violence, and an hour later in the
day. The same medicine, and the same regimen were
repeated and with the same effect. The period of
fever was short, and the attack of this day comparatively
mild. The third day of his attendance, instead of
the infusion of Thorough Wort, he gave an infusion of
Dog Wood, Wild Cherry, and Yellow Poplar bark. On
the fourth day nothing of their sickness remained, but a
kind of pleasing languor, and Pompey pronounced the
fever broken, assuring them, that all that was now
necessary, was to use great caution to prevent relapse,
or in his phrase, “getting it again.” They were now
all able to help each other. Leaving them materials
for soup, and killing them an abundance of small wild
game, obtained in those woods, with but a small effort, he
left them with the tears and blessings of them that were
ready to perish, as his reward. As they shook hands

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at parting, George gave him his promise, if he was ever
able, as he hoped one day to be, to purchase him and
give him his freedom. In a few days the family were
fully recovered, and resumed their usual routine of
cheerful and religious occupation and industry. They
had, indeed, incurred an additionol debt of twelve dollars
to the leaden-hearted physician, who shortly let
them know as much, by presenting his bill.

CHAPTER VI.

[figure description] Page 100.[end figure description]

Many a sin-worn face
Was pale, and woman's sympathetic tears,
And children's flow'd; and men's, who thought no shame
In tears.

This family had abundant reason to regard the merciful
interposition of Providence, in not imposing upon
them a double burden at the same time, or one greater
than they could bear. The affection of Hercules Pindall
for Eliza still seemed to preponderate over his resentments.
He was soothed, too, by learning, that the
family had promptly rejected similar proposals to his
made by Mr. Garvin, in behalf of his son Jethro. A
coolness existed between those two families, originating
with Mr. Pindall, and founded on the presumption,
manifested by his neighbour, in thinking of a movement
of that sort, in which even he had been unsuccessful.
From the circumstance of the continued passion of
young Hercules, or from some cause, it happened, that
the dreaded writ of ejection had never yet issued
against their humble premises, and a kind of doubtful
truce seemed yet to be exercised towards the family,
which, it was considered probable, would take the form
of alliance, or war, according as Eliza and her mother
should favor, or reject the suit.

An invitation to the whole family to accompany the
Pindall family to a camp-meeting, distant twenty miles
among the hills, was urged with so much earnestness,
mixed with half threats, in case of refusal, that it was
deemed advisable to accept it. There was less plea for
rejecting it, for now all the family was comfortably and
decently clad from their own means. They were informed,
too, that a separate carriage should be provided
for the family, and all the necessary arrangements made
for its subsistence, while out on this religious

[figure description] Page 101.[end figure description]

expedition. The idea of a ride in the country was pleasant
to Mrs. Mason, and delightful to the children, except
Eliza; so that, on the whole, the day was awaited with
impatience.

The time of the camp-meeting had been appointed
with reference to the mild and delightful weather in
autumn, commonly called Indian Summer, and happened
on a morning of one of those beautiful days, when
the weather is changing to coolness, and when the
leaves are in the stage between verdure and the yellow
tints of approaching winter. Hercules and his father
rode on horse-back, accompanied by half a dozen negro
servants, and a four-horse baggage-wagon, loaded
with provisions, and a couple of tents; and the family
carriage, in which were Mrs. Pindall and daughter, and
Mrs. Mason, and all her family. The conversation
that took place in the carriage turned upon the customary
topics. Mrs. Pindall often descanted with a mother's
eloquence, pride, and affection upon her darling
Hercules, and without coming directly to the point,
took care to draw sufficiently alluring pictures of the happiness,
that would crown the wife, of whom he should
be the husband; and Mrs. Mason expressed herself delighted
with the romantic solitudes on the eastern side
of the Mississippi. When they came among the hills,
every thing was a charm to the delighted children.
Eliza was cheerful, and sometimes made a remark, accompanied
by an arch expression of the eye, which
told, what she would have said, had the company been
pleasant, and her heart light. Miss Letitia found it in
keeping to be romantic, and she talked over all that
she could remember of all the trumpery novels, that
she had read, and found this one to be “the most delightfullest,
and that the most genteelest, and the other
the most sentimentalist novel,” that she had ever read.
They took their dinner under a prodigious yellow poplar,
on the margin of a clean branch, and had claret and
coffee, to carry down the solid parts of the repast. On

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their arriving at the ground, Miss Letitia insisted, and
Mrs. Mason gave a silent assent to the remark, that this
had been a most pleasant day.

Long before they arrived at the place of destination,
they were passed by multitudes, on horseback, or in
various kinds of carriages. They passed multitudes
on foot, some mothers carrying a babe in their arms,
and having two or three small children holding to them.
The very woods seemed to be alive, and populous, and
the groves pouring forth their sequestered sons from
every side towards the central point of attraction. The
place of worship was in the midst of a grove of those
noble and beautiful tulip trees, so natural to that region.
The spot was a deep verdant bottom-valley. On the
east and south it was surrounded by high precipitous
hills, faced with an almost perpendicular lime-stone wall,
in its fissures charmingly marked with prodigious tossels
of the most verdant fern. A clear spring branch rolled
gently through it, sufficiently broad and deep, to reflect
the trees, and the pillared clouds of the firmament.
There were the ambitious and wealthy, because in this
region opinion is all powerful, and they were there, either,
to extend their influence, or that their absence might
not be marked, to diminish it. Aspirants for office
were there, to electioneer, and gain popularity. Vast
numbers were there, from simple curiosity, and merely
to enjoy a spectacle. The young and beautiful were
there with mixed motives, which, perhaps, it were best
not severely to scrutinize. Children were there, their
young eyes 'glistening with the intense interest of eager
curiosity. The middle-aged fathers and mothers of
families were there, with the sober views of people,
whose plans in life were fixed, and calmly waiting to
hear. Men and women with hoary hairs were there,
with such thoughts, it may be hoped, as their years invited.
Such was the congregation consisting of thousands.

A host of preachers of different denominations was

[figure description] Page 103.[end figure description]

there, some in the earnest vigor of youth, waiting an
opportunity for display;—others, who had proclaimed
the gospel, as missionary-pilgrims, from the remotest
north of our vast country to the shores of the Mexican
gulf, and were ready to utter the words, the feelings, and
the experience, which they had treasured up in a travelling
ministry of fifty years, and whose tones and accents,
trembling with age, still more impressively, than their
language, announced, that their travels, their toils, and
their missionary warfare was soon to terminate. Such
were the preachers.

The two families arrived about sunset, and were received
with the marked distinction, due to the wealth and
importance of Mr. Pindall, a distinction, which, with
all its characteristic marks, has found its way even into
these woods. Mrs. Mason had been accustomed to
think of a camp-meeting with unpleasant associations
of every sort. She was therefore in a frame of mind,
peculiarly fitted to receive the magic impression of the
scene before her. Distant acquaintances and friends,
who had not met for years before, here met again.
Persons, who knew each other only by dim and, perhaps,
disfigured description, here met, and were introduced,
and contemplated one another face to face.
Long previous canvassing of the merits of the respective
preachers was here resumed again. The religious
were awaiting to hear that their expiring sentiments
might be rekindled; the witty, that they might find subjects
for their supposed wit and criticism. In fact,
scarcely an element of excitement for the human heart
can be imagined, that was not here. Of course, the
interchange of apostolic greetings and salutations among
the stricken in years, the embraces of women and young
girls, the hearty recognition of young men; the eager
questionings, how the time had passed, and the color of
the incidents, that had marked it, since they had last
met; the seeming vanishment of the chill indifference of
interest and ordinary life, and in its stead the assumption

[figure description] Page 104.[end figure description]

of an earnestness, warmth, and life, apparently belonging
to a more disinterested and warm-hearted and sublimed
race of beings than men;—marked these meetings, and
seemed to indicate, that in coming here, they had come
to a holier region, and a new country, where the air was
love, and where every one cared, not only for the things
of himself, but also, for those of his neighbour.

Mean while a hundred negroes, dressed in their holiday
finery, pitched the tents in lines under the rustling
of the tulip trees, and just beside the margin of the
stream. In the suburbs of this religious city, the growth
of a few hours, there were some tents, where the careless,
or the irreligious lingered, where cakes, wine, and
refreshments were sold, and dispensed; and where the
extremes of frivolity, merriment, and pleasure were
brought in direct contrast with those of religious excitement.
Lamps were hung in lines among the surrounding
branches, and fires, kindled with pitchy fragments of
pine, blazed in front of the tents, and diffused a glare
through the forests, and on the sides and summits of the
hoary bluffs. Coffee and tea were prepared; and as
they sat down to a religious supper, thus furnished, and
transported, as they seemed to be, to paradise, even the
subdued heart of Mrs. Mason swelled with tender remembrances
and undefinable emotions, in which, however,
pleasure and joy predominated. The hearts of
her children danced in rapture.

By the time that their supper was finished, the moon,
broadened and purpled with the mists of Indian summer,
began to show her calm orb above the summits of the
bluffs, and to pour her pensive and religious light upon
the hills, the trees, and the immense gathering of the
people. A few stars were seen glimmering through the
branches, and dancing in the moving waters of the gentle
stream. The whole scene was as a temple, fitted up
with a magnificence and grandeur worthy of a God.

“Oh!” said Eliza, as she pressed her mother's hand,
“that my dear, dear father were here! How differently

[figure description] Page 105.[end figure description]

would he think of a camp-meeting! what a glorious
place must be that heaven where he will dwell for ever.”

Thirty preachers of all ages surrounded the “stand.”
But the first preacher of the evening was on old man,
apparently four score, in a dress of the quaintest simplicity.
As he mounted the stand, the glare of the lights
upon the polished baldness of his crown, and the thin
gray locks that time had spared, and the furrowed
wrinkles of his brow, gave him an aspect of fragility
and unearthly elevation above flesh and blood, that prepared
the hearers to be impressed, with what he was
about to say. In a voice, which was so modulated by
age, earnestness, or natural tone, as if it were from a
being of another sphere, he gave out that sweet hymn,
“Thou shepherd of Israel and mine,
Thou joy and desire of my heart,” &c. Instantly the voices of the whole assembled multitude
burst forth in an air, familiar to all the people of this
region, and as it swelled, and died away among the
hills, and forests, and was returned softened in the echoes,
I should deem poorly of the heart, that would not
have been affected, and prepared to receive the full
impressions of religion. The hoary orator prayed as
one who felt, that he was soon to be “caught up;” and
in his exhortations he spake deeply on a deep theme,
such as the peace of those, who love God, and have a
confidence that He has forgiven their sins; the misery
and the ruin of those suicide reprobates, who turn their
backs on God, and despise their own mercies, the hopes,
joys, and terrors of eternity; his own experiences, his
travels, toils, and wanderings, his persecutions and welcomes,
the many, that he had seen in hope, in peace
and triumph, entering the “dark valley;” his determined
purpose to be diligent through his short remainder
of time, his deep regrets, that the increasing burdens
and infirmities of years were taking from him the power
to proclaim the mercies of his Saviour; the hope that
he should meet at least some of those present, as his

[figure description] Page 106.[end figure description]

trophies, and his crown in the day of the Lord Jesus—
such were the themes of this aged servant of Jesus
Christ. He had no need of the studied trick of oratory,
to produce the deepest movements of the heart. He
was compelled, occasionally, to pause, to dash the gathering
tears from his own eyes. His audience, almost
as one person, melted into tears. Even those, who
poized themselves on intellectual superiority, and the
pride of a nobler insensibility than the crowd, caught the
infectious tenderness, and melted into tears, like the
rest, and many scoffers, “who came to scoff, remained
to pray.”

Unhappily these scenes of high excitement are apt to
foster and energize all kinds of sentiments, as well those
of the animal, as the intellectual nature; and while the
worshippers, generally, had been rekindling the decaying
fires of devotion at the altar, others had been only
increasing the intensity of unhallowed ardors. Beauty
is never so lovely, as when lighted up with the inward
radiance of devotion. Many a person present had remarked
Mrs. Mason as the young and lovely widow;
for in truth, the excitement of the scene, and the glow
of faith and of hope, which it had kindled, had colored
her pale cheek, and had imparted a juvenile brilliance
to her eye. What was the effect, then, on Eliza, by
the influence of a new climate, prematurely developing
into the form, feature, and beauty of maturity? Poor
Hercules, and Jethro Garvin, and many others, had
felt to their cost how much more lovely she had
seemed here, than they had seen her before. But the
sanctity of her manner, and the inspirations of the place,
had awed them to silence, and had saved her mother
and herself much pain, which they had armed themselves
to endure, in hearing these swains talk of their
love and constancy. The meeting of three days broke
up, and the audience dispersed, without an unpleasant
incident, save that Hercules and Jethro, on their way
home, brought it to a battle, to decide whose claims of

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the two should be resigned to the other, in case Eliza
admitted either. In this case, Hercules, like his famed
prototype, fairly vanquished the monster, who assumed
to come between him and his love, and remained master
of the field, and his pretensions.

The father and mother of Hercules were sufficiently
weary of this hopeless pursuit of a portionless child,
who had nothing but beauty, and were heartily desirous,
that their son should relinquish the chase. But
the young master inherited from his father a sufficient
portion of that spirit, wich is either a great virtue, or
fault, according, as it is perseverance, or obstinacy.
He ceased not to tease them, until they had partly
wearied, and partly intimidated Mrs. Mason, to give
her consent, to carry her family to see the next horse-race.
As it is a spectacle, which every body in the
southern and south-western country attends, as it is one
of their capital amusements, and a scene of the next
degree of interest to a camp-meeting, I am not unwilling,
that the reader should accompany the widow
and her orphans to a scene, which some will think improper
for her to have witnessed. Others will view it,
as do most of even the religious people of the south,
and will consider, that this tender mother had constantly
before her eyes the study, not to break with her
powerful neighbours; the fear, that their aroused vengeance
might eject her and her orphans from their
humble home, and throw them upon the naked elements.
What do I know? Perhaps in the different
views which mothers take of this thing, from their
daughters', she mused in the recesses of her thoughts,
that the constancy and importunity of the young man
might wear out the aversion of her daughter, and secure
an asylum for her and the family, at least from the
evils of poverty. Whatever were the motive, she consented
to accompany the Pindalls to the horse-race.

On the appointed day, away gallopped Hercules and
his young companions; and behind them rolled the

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family carriage, with the family of Mrs. Mason along
with his mother and sister; and still behind them, the
father and his neighbours brought up the rear. It was
a day of huzza and jubilee, and all parties seemed to
feel, that the subdued and silent spirit of the camp-meeting
was out of place. The negroes, that remained
behind, and those, who were allowed to attend the race,
parted by singing in alternate divisions, and in their
loudest and merriest, “Old Virginia never tire!” Those
that remained, huzzaed for Green Mantle, and those
that went for the Cedar Snag. Even the hounds felt
the difference between this occasion and the other, and
lifted up their long and lantern jaws, and howled to a
merry key.

The place of meeting was a beautiful island-prairie,
in the midst of an immeasurable extent of woods, as
level, and as smooth, as a shaven and rolled walk. In
fact, the “heat,” a narrow turnpike of two miles, returning
by an elliptical curve to the goal, had been
shaven, and harrowed down. Under the shade of
oaks and holly trees, covered with grape vines on the
edge of this prairie, were raised galleries, or stands,
about six feet above the surface, of an extent, to accommodate
all the spectators, that did not choose to
remain on the turf. A horse-race assembles all the
beauty and youth and gaiety of the southern country,
and here it is seen arrayed in all its splendor and
charms. Beside a great number of small races, that
would be considered to be episodes, to take down the
excitement of the chief one, there were to be merry
races of asses and “chunks,” by persons, who volunteered,
as the fools, or Merry-Andrews of the meeting.
The capital race was between the famous racers, Green
Mantle and Cedar Snag. The partisans of these
horses, and those, who had staked high bets, wore
badges, the one of green and the other of red, corresponding
to that of the latter horse. The jockeys and
riders were habited in close silk dresses, of these

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respective colors, with jockey caps to match. Such was
the strength of feeling and of party in the case, that
probably, with the exception of Mrs. Mason's family,
there were scarcely any persons, male or female,
young or old, black or white, but what had a bet depending
on the race. By-bets, as they were called, and
increased bets, were continually forming, and persons
of honor and grave presence for such occasions were
invoked, to attest the terms, and prescribe the forms.
The judges were enclosed in awful sanctity from the
crowd by a railing. Long before the race was started,
there had been a number of fist-fights, in which the
eyes of the parties about to bet, were bunged up, that
their judgments might be less diverted by visible objects
from a sagacious calculation in regard to the issue
of the race. Here might be seen, a in concentrated form,
the readiness of the American people, to form parties,
and to be stirred up by the fury of party spirit. A
bully comes forward, and cries out, “The Green Mantle
beats the field,” adding an oath, that I choose to
omit. “Here's my fist for five dollars, and a fight for
Green Mantle.” “Done,” says another; “ten to your
five, and here's at you.” Upon the word, they fall to
it, and fight, until one, or the other, is hors du combat.
Meanwhile, at the cake and grog stands, the matter is
debated by the bumpkins and boys and negroes and
yellow women, with as much ardor, as by the planters
themselves. At the same time, there are mock-races
along the sides of the prairies, between chunks and mules,
and blind horses, to the great amusement and delight of
the mob around them. The while, there were negroes,
and awkward boys, and men, who were aware that
they had this sole chance for distinction, riding back
and forward, across the field, spurring, and whipping
their horses to their utmost speed, with their clothes
streaming away behind them, resembling militia aids,
on a muster day, or a mob retreating from an army.
Here, too, is a place of display for generous and

[figure description] Page 110.[end figure description]

considerate gallantry. The young gentlemen place gloves,
hats, and dresses, as stakes for the lady of their love,
to suspend upon the horse of their choice. Hercules
Pindall, before the assembled crowd, brought a bonnet,
pair of gloves, and a beautiful peach-blow Nankin crape
dress pattern, showing the articles to Eliza Mason, and
informing her that she was elected by him, as the lady
of his choice, to bet either upon the Green Mantle, or
the Cedar Snag, and requesting her to choose between
them. At the same time, he expressed a wish, that
she would fix upon Green Mantle, as, in his judgment,
the winning horse. The poor girl, no doubt, wished
the tall Creole in the Red Sea, and pretty decidedly
told him, that she chose to be excused from betting upon
either. But there was a look of such imploring
humility in the countenance of this haughty and powerful
young heir, accustomed to such uncontrolled authority,
(some say there was even a tear in his eye,) that
it may be fairly presumed, other motives, than an unwillingness
to disgrace him before so many people, and
displease her mother, whose eye bade her make a
choice and gain the beautiful articles, decided her.
She told him that if custom required her to choose,
as every one about her told her it did, she should of
course choose the Green Mantle, for it seemed to her,
that it would, in fact, be the winning horse. What a
powerful tamer of wild animals is love! This young
hero, as unmanageable by all beside, as a mule, and as
farouche, as the French say, as a dromedary, all at
once bowed his tall form, like a lily, cut by a scythe,
and went away as subdued, and as sentimental, as an
unfledged turtle, took his place on the turf, drew off his
hat, and waved it three times over his head, crying out,
“Green Mantle for ever!” in good set tones, that might
have been heard on a still morning three miles.

Beside the purse, and the great bets, there were
many by-bets, many beaver hats, many pairs of boots,
and many fancy articles for the fair, pretty equally

[figure description] Page 111.[end figure description]

suspended upon the two horses. After an hour's prelude,
in which these matters were settled, and a dozen chunk-races
run, and a goodly number of the spectators rendered
as blind as Justice, by fist-fights, after the judges,
too, sitting in their inviolable conclave, had settled the
grave preliminaries of the weights, and every thing that
appertained to the riders, and what should constitute a
“balk,” what “flying the truck,” and what amount of
advance should be adjudged decisive of victory; the
jockeys brought their horses, in their appropriate trappings,
to the goal. The judges issued the cry, “Clear
the field!” Away scamper chunks, donkeys, mules,
and negroes, and the audience is as still, as death. The
horses are brought with their breasts against a line. It
is astonishing, and to me it is absolutely painful, to see
to what an extent these noble animals catch the enthusiasm
and the excitement of the spectators. You may
see it in their eye. You may see it in their bodies,
painfully stretched, and prepared for the leap. You
may see their trembling impatience in the spasmodic
movement of all their muscles. You may see it in the
swelling of their veins, and the expansion of their nostrils.
The two senior judges, one on each side of the
truck, withdrew the string, dropped a hat, and cried,
“Go!” Away sprang the horses, and no one, who has
not seen a race, can imagine the enthusiasm of the moment.
Mingled cries, shouts, and I wish I was not
obliged to add, oaths, in treble, tenor, and bass, in repeafed
bursts of acclamation, rose to the sky. “God
bless the pretty soul of Green Mantle,” shouted some
ladies. “God bless the noble heart of Cedar Snag,”
shouted others, and in less time than it takes to trace
these lines, the horses had reached the extremity of
the ellipse, and were on the return. The cunning rider
of Green Mantle, immediately measuring the comparative
speed of his horse, gently reined him in, and amidst
deafening cries of “Cedar Snag and Carolina against
all the world!” that horse had gained of the other half

[figure description] Page 112.[end figure description]

a length. “Double the bet for Cedar Snag!” was
the cry, and poor Eliza, whether for Hercules or the
peach blow crape, or other cause, I say not; but, clearly,
she was sorry, to see Green Mantle dropping astern.
But, exactly at the right time, the jockey rider of this
horse gives him the rein, a cheer, and a gentle switch,
and the noble horse stretches himself almost to the
earth. In an instant he gains on Cedar Snag. The
spectators now comprehend the movement. The dumb-founded
partisans of Green Mantle throw up their hats,
rend the air, and shout, “Huzza for Green Mantle and
Old virginia!” By this time the cheek of Eliza and
her mother is colored with eagerness. With the cries,
“Green Mantle! Cedar Snag! Virginia! Carolina!”
and the names of the betting ladies, and oaths, shouts,
and exclamations, until the parties are hoarse, Green
Mantle advances a full length before the other to
the goal.

After the shouting and enthusiasm of the partisans of
Green Mantle had been allowed time to subside, came
on the important business of settling the bets. The decision
of the judges was clear, and irrevocable, and the
bets were paid, in general, without a murmur, for it is
deemed mean and unworthy, to question the decision,
or to show any backwardness, either in paying, or admitting
the victory to be a fair one. Here, too, we see
the genuine obstinacy of American perseverance in
party feeling. The trials of speed had been as fair, as
could be imagined. Neither horse balked, or flew the
truck, and without some palpable mistake of the horse,
or the rider, this trial might be considered a fair and
unvarying criterion, of what would take place in a hundred
subsequent similar trials. Not so thought or said
the partisans of Cedar Snag. Both parties baffled
learnedly about heels, wind, and bottom, and the losers
found out some mistake, either in the training, or riding
of their favorite horse, which, they were confident,
another trial would rectify, and thus produce a

[figure description] Page 113.[end figure description]

different result. “Here,” say they, “is my fist for double
the bet on another trial.” Well said Hudibras,
“Convince a man against his will,” &c.

When Hercules came forward with the beautiful
dress, to offer it to Eliza, it was done with so much
visible satisfaction in her success and pleasure in offering
it to her, tempered with so much humility and a
manner so different from his usual proud and saucy
bearing, that I am not sure, had he been a little more
polished, and she a few years older, but some touch of
pity and tenderness would have mingled with her acceptance.
As it was, there was something so near like
relenting, in the eye and manner of Eliza, that the
young man went off as happy, as a prince, treasuring
the kind look in his memory, and growing as proud
upon it, as if he had vanquished her young heart as
completely, as he had the authority of his parents.
Poor young man! Before the carriage set off with
Mrs. Mason for her cabin, be took occasion to renew
his suit, in such earnest and assured terms, that both
the mother and daughter were obliged once more to
cut off his hopes, and leave him as much in despondency
and dudgeon as before.

I have said nothing of the extacy of the children in
the enjoyment of the race. It is of all others the show,
that seizes most strongly upon the affections of their
years. George, in truth, had been too deeply occupied
with the examination of Hercules, and his bearing
towards his sister, on the occasion to enjoy it. But for
the rest, they chattered about the race all the way
home, and more than once sprang up from their mattrasses
by night, shouting, “Green Mantle, for ever!”
in their sleep.

But I find myself entering too minutely into the fortunes
of this family, and I must hasten to follow the
thread of events by a more general outline. For a
considerable time, too, there does not appear any striking
incident in their course. I may only say, that the

[figure description] Page 114.[end figure description]

web of their life, the while, was of mingled yarn, as
falls to the common lot of mortals. Their scheme of
silk-making had not been pursued to an extent, to yield
much beyond amusement; though it was completely
successful, as far as it went. They labored incessantly
at their occupution of making hats and bonnets. But
it was not always, that George was so successful in his
sales, as he had been at first. Eliza had plied her
spinning-wheel, with cotton of their own raising. But
the evils of poverty continued to press upon them. The
love of Hercules seemed fast verging towards revenge.
When he had first thought of wooing a girl, who had
nothing but beauty, the parents had considered it, and he
had considered it, graciousness and condescension.
When it was perceived, that after the pursuit of a year,
in which she had become turned of fourteen, and as beautiful
as May, after the mother and daughter had received
such magnificent presents, still no real progress was made
towards success, and that the mother and daughter still
shrunk from the alliance, the parents began to talk again
of the law-suit, and the writ of ejectment. Hercules had
ventured once to solicit the interference of George on
the subject. But the tall and powerful young man absolutely
quailed under the flashing of the eye of this poor
orphan lad, and he never cared to resume the subject
again. The people, generally, in the settlement, considered
this as another proof of the foolish and insolent
pride of the family, and passed many a bitter remark
upon this fancied union of poverty and ambition. These
circumstances operated, as a new and complete cause
of severance between them and their neighbours, and
days often passed without their speaking with a single
human being, except those of their own number.

Mrs. Mason and her daughter, though they could be
fine, wanted the plain and common articles of comfortable
clothing. The boys were only dressed to the point
of the plainest decency, while a small payment of the
taxes and the doctor's bill was made, and a trifle

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reserved to aid in carrying on the law-suit with Mr. Pindall,
whenever he should commence it. No part of these
privations weighed so heavily on the spirits of George
and his mother, as the necessity of such unremitting
labor, imposed upon them all, as left them neither
time, nor opportunity for the instruction and education
of the younger children. The progress of George and
Eliza had been respectable, during the life of their
father, who had devoted his whole heart to this task,
and who had found in them uncommon docility. But
it went to the heart of Mrs. Mason, to see her younger
children growing up in the woods, as ignorant, and undisciplined.
“as the wild ass's colt.” Some more enlarged
and efficient plan had occurred to the scheming
mind of George a thousand times, to remedy this and
various other evils of their condition. His rising
thoughts and purposes spurned the idea of his vegetating
his whole life in the forest. Nor could he endure
the idea, that the beauty and sweetness of Eliza should
never be contemplated by any other, than such, as the
Pindalls and Garvins. But to go abroad, for his plans
always terminated in the necessity of this, and to leave
his mother and the desolate and dear ones, to whom
his dying father had confided the charge, like lambs
in the wilderness;—this, too, was an idea, from which
he recoiled. Yet he always said to himself, that it
was better to inflict on them and himself a lesser evil
for the sake of a greater good; and that he ought to
give them and himself the pain of leaving them, for a
time, in order to fix them and himself in a position,
where they could remain permanently together. His
friend, the post-master of the village, had often conversed
with him on the subject. He was extensively
acquainted with the captains of the steam-boats, that
traded on the Ohio and the Upper Mississippi. He
recommended to George the place of clerk on one of
these, as one, for which he thought him, as he said,
peculiarly qualified, by his being uncommonly ready at

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figures, and his writing a hand of remarkable beauty.
Whenever George named his scruples, he resolutely,
and successfully combatted them, proving to him, that
he was ruining his own prospects, as well as those of
his family, by remaining there in ignorance in the
woods, and in pursuits, which, however industriously
followed, would never procure an adequate maintenance
for the family.

The idea of leaving his mother, sister, and the
young children alone, and unprotected, was a gloomy
one to his affectionate heart. But in turning over the
subject, and taking a view of every side of it, it occurred
to him, that it was a part of the duty of mental
firmness, to take such measures, as were most for his
advantage and theirs, even did they involve the necessity
and the pain of a separation. This deep attachment
to home, identified with a sense of duty, and associated
with the feeling of homesickness, was the most
formidable determent from his project. Once or twice
in their evening conversations, he had ventured to hint
the thought of the post-master in the family. It must
be allowed, that his mother had already revolved in her
own mind the possibility of such an event. She had
even allowed herself to contemplate the subject with so
much steadiness of vision, as to see, that it would be
for his interest, and of course her duty, to consent to it.
But whenever she viewed the prospect near at hand,
she instinctively shrunk from it, and closed her eyes
upon it, as children do upon the terrific notion of a
phautom in the dark. At first, when she discovered,
that he was actually thinking of leaving home, she
burst into tears, and affected to see in this purpose the
extinction of filial affection, and a hardness of heart,
which cared not for her and the other children, and a
selfishness, which regarded only his own ease and comfort,
and his own vagabond projects of wandering
abroad. George prudently waited until the storm of
wounded affection had passed away, and meekly

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expressing a hope, that she would review the case, and
think more favorably of it another time, he withdrew.

The next time the conversation turned upon the same
subject, she viewed it more calmly, and rather in sorrow
than in anger. For in truth, she had reviewed the
subject, when alone, and her conscience had reproached
her, for this indulgence of anger and invective, in
regard to her son. She had deeply and religiously
mediated her duties, had considered, that, however her
own selfish affections might wish to detain him, she
must be convinced, that he could do much more for
the family in such pursuits as were proposed to him,
than he could at home, that it would enable him to see
the world, and form his character, and that she ought
to struggle to triumph over the selfish considerations,
that operate with so many mothers to the ruin of their
children. In the second conversation which they held
upon the subject, she consented to his project, and only
requested time to prepare her mind for the separation.

Not many days after, George received a letter from
the post-master, informing him, that a most fovorable
opportunity offered, for his obtaining a clerkship on
board of one of the capital steam-boats. The terms
were thirty dollars a month. This excellent man offered
him, in consideration of the wants of the family, and
the diminution of its means, in his leaving it, to advance
twenty dollars, on the prospect of his wages, to expend
in articles for its comfort. When he read the letter to
his mother, it was, after all her good resolutions, as if
an ice-bolt had gone to her heart. But she remembered
her duty. She begged him and the children to retire.
It was breaking open the unhealed wound, occasioned
by her husband's death, and she wept, as a tribute
to feeble human nature. She then prayed, and
wrestled hard with God for resignation. This is the
way to settle high and good purposes. When George
and the children returned, she was calm, and the matter
was at rest in her mind. She told him, that she not

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only consented to his going, but considered it the best
thing he could do.

The heart of George was relieved. It seemed to
him impossible, that he could ever have forsaken the
cabin, unless she had so expressed herself. He hurried
to the river, saw, and thanked his friend, and was
by him conducted on board the steam-boat, which was
about to ascend the Ohio, and would return in a few
days. The captain was pleased with him, and he was
reciprocally pleased with the captain and his prospects;
and the hargain was settled, and he was to be on the
bank, when the boat returned, to take his place on board
of her. We are swayed to our best actions in many
instances by some little obliquity of motive. It must
be allowed, that when George saw the noble steam-boat
sweep away up the stream, she carried a portion
of his heart off with her. It must be admitted, that a
spice of roving disposition, inherited from his father,
had its share in overcoming his reluctance to leave his
mother and his home.

It is not material to relate all the conversations,
which ensued, between this engagement and the time
of his departure, between him and the different members
of the family. He was the only one of their number,
that had yet developed strength of character, and
the mother and the children leaned upon him not only
for support but to resolve their doubts, and settle their
purposes, and decide their plans, and sustain their
mental indecision. Meanwhile, Mrs. Mason had faithfully
investigated, by all the means in her power, the
dangers of the river, and had heard of every accident,
in all its exaggerations, that had ever happened to a
steam-boat on the Mississippi, or Ohio. She learned
all, that she could gather about storms, and snags, and
more than all, the dreadful death of scalding by the
bursting of the boiler.

Neither was George idle on his part. He had expended
the advanced twenty dollars for the comfort of

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the family, during his absence. Henry had come sufficiently
of age, to take his place in the charge of the
field, and the stewardship of their little coucern of silk, and
bonnet manufacture, and their other humble affairs.
Many and solemn charges did he give him. The main
points were reduced to writing, that they might not be
forgotten, when he was gone. It was an affecting
charge on both hands, and when Henry received this
solemn responsibility, he gave a promise, as solemn,
that he would strive faithfully to discharge its duties.

It is painful to me to remember the distress of the
family, when the day of separation actually came.
But, like every event borne on the wings of time, it did
come. They recited their prayers for the last time together.
They mingled their voices for the last time in
the song of evening praise. The last evening of tender
and solemn conversations passed away. The last
promises of affection, remembrance, and prayer for
each other were made. They parted over night, and
according to arrangement, long before the sun rose, he
was gone. In the morning his place at table was empty;
and the mother, and the forlorn young ones walked
about, dreaming, and silent, and in stupefaction, not unlike
that, which followed the death of Mr. Mason.

George was turned of eighteen, when he was thus
thrown upon the world. He was dressed in the most
plain and quaker-like style. A small handkerchiefbundle
contained his clothes and a bible. Beneath his
humble dress beat a heart, at once stout, and affectionate;
and these constituted all his baggage. As I have
remarked, he stole away before the family had risen in
the morning, to avoid the agony of those partings, which
make such a distressing part of such a separation. The
deepest emotions, that are excited on such occasions,
are not those, that show themselves in words or tears.
When he had taken the last look of mother, sister, and
brothers, and the humble cabin, which together made
that dear and sacred word home, a word which

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means more to a good mind and heart, than almost any
other in our language, he turned round, before he
crossed the stile that led out of the field, and gave the
dear spot the benediction, that rose to the Almighty
from a pious child, an affectionate brother, and an unpolluted
nature. “God keep you,” said he, “and
watch over your innocent slumbers. For me, though
now a wanderer in the wild world, I will think of you,
and the thought shall be as a talisman, to shield me
against tempation. I will think of the pale face of my
mother. I will think of the last look of my father. I
will think of my sweet sister, and the dear young ones.”
I consider such reflections, as the best possible security
against temptation to degradation and vice, that a young
man can possess. Such thoughts must be expunged
from the mind, before he can be led widely astray.